


Love Forgotten, Life Reclaimed

by NoontimeOwl



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/F, Happy Ending, Memory Loss, Romance, Time Magic, lovers to enemies to idiots to lovers, lovers to strangers, no time travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 48,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28614828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoontimeOwl/pseuds/NoontimeOwl
Summary: The Fourth War has ended. The Horde and the Alliance had united their forces and defeated Azshara and N'Zoth. While the rest of the world enjoys the tentative peace, warchief Sylvanas Windrunner enjoys her time with her secret lover - Lord Admiral Jaina Proudmoore. But that bliss is about to come to an end, when the bronze dragon courier appears in Orgrimmar with a proposition from the Timeless One himself...
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Comments: 143
Kudos: 323





	1. Long Live the Queen

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is not beta-read, sorry for any and all mistakes (and don't hesitate to point them out, I'll greatly appreciate it).
> 
> Also, I'm strongly diverging from canon, so here are some things that you might want to know (they are not relevant to the story, but still):
> 
> — Teldrassil didn’t burn – there was battle, but innocents didn’t die (I might mention what happened later in the fic), the Fourth War was waged for resources (yep, azerite), but was quickly finished when Azshara and N’Zoth reared their heads. Horde and Alliance fought together in this and won.  
> — The entire Kul Tiran plotline stays. Jaina is Lord Admiral, she’s at peace with Katherine.

The night was at its darkest, just on the verge of breaking into dawn. The streets of Orgrimmar were silent. Unlucky grunts, tasked with guarding the city in this ancestors-forsaken hour, were yawning and waiting for their shifts to end, while being surreptitiously scowled at by dark rangers — the _real_ guardians of the city, as some might say.

Unbeknownst to these vigilant defenders, an Alliance mage slept soundly on the highest floor of the most guarded building — the Grommash Hold. If any orcs or trolls in the city guard knew she was there, the night would definitely not be so peaceful. Instead it would be disturbed by the sound of alarm, battle cries and clanking of weapons. And if the sin’dorei mages, who placed the wards around the city and claimed they were impenetrable, knew the mage had bypassed them all with as little as a flick of her wrist, they would add their wailing and outraged howls to the mix. After all, what right does an Alliance mage have to teleport into the very heart of their Horde in the middle of the night? And who cares if their factions were at relative peace at the moment? She had absolutely no business to stay there!

As for the dark rangers… Well, they knew. But they kept their mouths shut. They knew that the mage had every right to be here, since she was _desired_ here. They also knew how important her business was — to stay the night in the arms of their warchief. After all, rangers were pretty certain that these late-night rendezvous were all that kept the current peace.

So, they all stayed silent… Well, almost all. Nathanos was silent as well, but for a different reason — nobody had told him about the mage and her regular visits. If _he_ learned of this… well, his wailing would definitely put any banshee to a shame.

As it was, Jaina Proudmoore — Lord Admiral of Kul-Tiras, archmage of Dalaran, Alliance darling and usually the last person to be welcome on the Horde territory — happily slept in warchief’s private quarters, snuggling close to a slightly cool body next to her. Said body belonged, unsurprisingly, to Sylvanas Windrunner — the warchief herself — who, unlike Jaina, had no need of sleep. Thus, she simply laid in her bed, soaking in her lover’s heat and stroking her arm. Her movements were careful, for she did not wish to rouse the mage yet. They still had time until the sun rose and their duties would once again force them to go their separate ways.

However, fates decided differently. Sylvanas scowled, when after a soft knock on the door she felt Jaina jolt awake and tense, ice magic already glowing on her fingertips.

“Hush,” the warchief spoke quietly, regretfully untangling herself from the warm body and walking toward the door. “It’s one of my rangers.”

Jaina relaxed slightly as the door opened, revealing Anya Eversong. However, the mage didn’t allow herself to let her guard down completely — Anya would never disturb them unless the matter was extremely important.

“Dark Lady. Lord Admiral.” Anya bowed, glancing at Jaina, who sat on the bed and draped her naked form in the blanket. Anya’s usually impassive undead countenance changed to decidedly amused at the sight.

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes, and the ranger wordlessly passed her two letters. Envelopes looked almost identical, but banshee didn’t look at them for longer than a second before fixing Anya with a glare.

“You decided to interrupt us in the middle of the night to deliver _letters_?” Sylvanas’ tone was icier than frozen wastes of Northrend, but Anya remained seemingly unaffected by it.

“They were delivered a few minutes ago to the gates of the city. By a _bronze dragon_.” When Sylvanas’ eyebrows rose to her hairline, the ranger continued. “I assumed it means they are urgent. One is addressed to you, Dark Lady.” Then she once again looked at Jaina. “And the other to Lord Admiral.”

Jaina and Sylvanas both froze upon hearing this. Their relationship was as secret as it could get — only Jaina, Sylvanas and her rangers were privy to the knowledge of their activities and whereabouts this night. And the Dark Lady could bet her last Val’kyr that her rangers would never betray her secrets to anyone. So, a courier — however unorthodox — bringing a letter to the Lord Admiral in the _unlikeliest_ of places on Azeroth seemed at the very least like a veiled threat.

“Thank you, Anya.” After the ranger bowed again and left, Sylvanas closed the door, walked toward her desk, took a letter opener and then sat next to Jaina on the bed, passing her the second envelope. “Did you by any chance cross the bronze dragonflight somehow?”

Jaina, whose first reaction was to think along the same lines, slowly shook her head. After Sylvanas opened her own envelope, the mage took the letter opener from her and spoke:

“No, I didn’t. I can’t even imagine what this is.” She sighed and glanced at Sylvanas’ letter. “Yours is longer.”

“And your looks like a threat note,” noted Sylvanas, eyeing both letters suspiciously.

She was right, though. While banshee’s own letter looked like a carefully folded long parchment, filled from top to bottom with someone’s tiny writing, Jaina’s was more of a card the size of a palm. Indeed, perfect for delivering a short threat.

Or an invitation.

The latter was exactly what the card turned out to be. Jaina frowned. Apparently, former Aspect Nozdormu the Timeless One called a meeting with leaders of the Alliance and the Horde… regarding the Forsaken. And she was being summoned.

As the mage put her card down, she looked up at the banshee. Sylvanas read her letter, her eyes narrowing and her ears trembling slightly. Jaina knew her lover well enough by now to understand, that it meant extreme agitation.

Oh, and anger. But no surprise there — after all, being a banshee, Sylvanas was almost always angry.

“What is it?” anxiously asked Jaina, when banshee finished reading. Instead of answering, Sylvanas passed the parchment to her.

Jaina was surprised at the gesture. Them both being the leaders of their respective — and antagonistic — factions, Warchief and Lord Admiral usually tried to skirt around matters related to their duties when behind closed doors. That meant trusting each other to not go through one another’s correspondence. And the fact that Sylvanas had just freely given her seemingly important letter spoke of a completely new level of trust.

As Sylvanas paced the room, archmage read the lengthy message her lover received. And by the end of it her eyes were as wide as the Blue Child in its fullest phase.

Apparently, Nozdormu the Timeless One and his flight had found a way to make every Forsaken _alive_ again.

And he was asking Sylvanas if she and her people would consider this option.

Jaina had to re-read the letter twice to make sure her eyes didn’t deceive her. Nozdormu didn’t reveal too many details, but the vague hints he dropped while mentioning the ritual and its procedure made Jaina’s inner researcher very curious.

At the end of the letter, the former Aspect was also proposing to host a gathering of Horde and Alliance leaders at Wyrmrest Temple… in case Sylvanas wanted to hear him out.

Jaina frowned and glanced at her own card suspiciously.

“Well?” asked Sylvanas, noticing that Jaina finished reading.

The mage sighed, putting both letters on the bed, side by side.

“That’s… a lot to take in.” She paused, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “You should probably know that Nozdormu already called this gathering. The message I received — it’s an invitation.”

Sylvanas’ face darkened. Walking toward the bed, she reached for Jaina’s card, but then hesitated.

“May I?”

Jaina smiled at the question and nodded. Trust was a two-way street after all.

As Sylvanas read the short summons, her glowing red eyes turned into angry slits.

“That serpent presumes to decide the fate of my people, then?” she hissed. “And he wishes to invite _those Alliance vultures_? I should have known the illusion of choice he left me in that letter was just that — an illusion.”

One of the most prominent Alliance vultures, who was sitting naked — save for Sylvanas’ token she always wore on her neck right next to her father’s pendant — on the warchief’s bed, sighed.

“He _is_ a bronze dragon,” she offered carefully. “The invitation probably means that he knows you’re going to accept and come to the meeting.”

“Which only makes me want to refuse more.” Sylvanas shot back, sounding almost petulant.

Jaina smiled at that.

“Are there any _serious_ reasons for you refusing and possibly breaking our timeway’s space and time in the process?” She asked softly.

“Of course.”

“Any reasons other than you acting like the biggest child on all of Azeroth?”

Sylvanas shot her a glare, but decided against answering that particular quip. Instead, she said. “I am unsure on the specifics of what he’s offering. What I _am_ sure about, is that anything the bronze dragonflight came up with must involve messing with time. It’s simply dangerous.”

Jaina nodded at that, serious once again. The point was a valid one, but the mage still began, “I doubt bronzes will do anything to disrupt the timeways…”

Sylvanas scoffed, cutting her mid-sentence.

“Did you forget Garrosh and his trial already?”

Jaina’s face darkened. No, she did not forget Garrosh or anything involving that savage beast. And she definitely didn’t forget Kairoz’s betrayal, which subsequently resulted in Jaina’s own near-death and rise of the Iron Horde.

“Correction — I doubt _Nozdormu_ will do anything to disrupt the timeways…”

At that Sylvanas simply laughed.

“Did you forget Murozond?”

Jaina sighed and lifted her eyes to the ceiling in silent prayer to the Tides, Light, and all gods that might be listening.

“At the very least, I think we should hear what he has to say,” she finally spoke, looking at Sylvanas. “That shouldn’t hurt anyone. Right?”

* * *

Northrend was its usual charming self — bleak, white, absolutely freezing. The majority of the Horde and the Alliance leaders, who gathered at the top platform of Wyrmrest Temple for Nozdormu’s meeting, shivered every time even the slightest breeze wafted through the temple. The only exceptions were mages, who were wrapped into their warming spells more than into their clothes, and the Forsaken — namely Sylvanas Windrunner and Nathanos Blightcaller, who accompanied his Dark Lady for almost every important faction meeting.

To be honest, Sylvanas saw little point in bringing him along. However, he did serve one important function — whenever he was standing or sitting next to Sylvanas during such meetings, Jaina would glare holes into him, not even trying to hide her disdain. Even now, while Lord Admiral was standing on the opposite side of the platform, surrounded by her friends and allies, she would occasionally give Nathanos a dirty look. That worked wonders for making others — especially narrowminded people like Genn Graymane — believe that Jaina Proudmoore felt this way about “the damnable banshee” as well.

Usually, Sylvanas could barely contain her smile at seeing this, but right now she had to withhold a scowl. Out of all the people Jaina could strike a conversation today, she picked the two whose very presence always set the Banshee Queen on edge.

_Her sisters_.

While Vereesa was deliberately ignoring Sylvanas, going as far as to turn away from her the moment they saw each other, Alleria was unabashedly staring, not looking away even for a second. From time to time she would add a few words to whatever discussion Jaina was having with Little Moon, but her gaze never wavered.

Deciding to do her best to ignore her _beloved family_ and her actual beloved, Sylvanas allowed her own eyes to wander over the gathered crowd. Everyone but their actual host were accounted for. The best and brightest of the Alliance gathered on the far side of the platform. Anduin stood with Tyrande, Malfurion and Genn. The king of Gilneas was in his worgen form — Sylvanas assumed all the fur helped him withstand the cold better, but he was still pitifully shivering from time to time. His misery brought no small amount of joy to the banshee.

Next to the Alliance members stood representatives of Dalaran — archmage Khadgar, archmage Modera and blue dragon Kalec in his half-elven form. After a few minutes of waiting, the latter approached Jaina and her circle, almost making Sylvanas grind her teeth in jealousy. Suddenly realizing that her traitorous eyes once again fell upon Jaina, warchief shifted her gaze in the direction on her own envoy.

While she had no desire to bring any of the Horde leaders into what she considered a purely Forsaken matter, Nozdormu’s insistence to involve the Alliance forced her to gather her allies as well. All the battle-hardened veterans were there — Lor’themar, accompanied by Liadrin, quietly chatted with Thalyssra, while the oldest members of the Horde — Baine, Saurfang and Rokhan — quietly stood closer to the middle of the platform, creating a buffer between the Horde representatives and the Alliance. Sylvanas was secretly grateful for that — she didn’t really want bloodshed today, and she was counting on Baine’s calming influence on both sides.

The only people missing were Gazlowe, who recently racketed… errr… _succeeded_ Gallywix as the goblin trade prince, and newly joined vulpera. Both were of the same mind as Sylvanas — they didn’t see a point in attending this gathering, and they didn’t want to travel to the edge of the world to freeze their ears off for nothing.

Finally, everyone turned their heads to look at the new arrivals — Alexstrasza the Life Binder and Nozdormu the Timeless One, both in their elven forms, walked through the perimeter of drakonids, who were watching from the sidelines in case the fighting broke out. Former Aspects stopped in the middle of the platform and looked at the mortals.

“Ah, everyone’s just on time. Excellent,” said Nozdormu, looking quite pleased. Sylvanas rolled her eyes. Leave it to the Keeper of Time to be concerned about someone’s punctuality.

Alexstrasza smiled at him indulgently and then turned her attention toward mortals.

“Children of Azeroth,” she began, “we welcome you in our temple and thank you for accepting our invitation.”

“Your letter said this… _meeting_ … had something to do with these wretches,” growled Genn, impolitely cutting Alexstrasza off and angrily pointing his forepaw at Sylvanas. The banshee impassively stared him down. “What did they do this time?”

“Nothing,” Alexstrasza smiled. “This meeting is about what we — the dragons — can do _for_ them.” The gathered crowd — all except Sylvanas and Jaina — seemed confused; and when no more interruptions followed, the Dragonqueen continued. “Some time ago the bronze dragonflight had stumbled upon notes of an ancient magic. After thoroughly studying it, they discovered that it could be used to… revert the condition of the Forsaken, making them alive again.”

Sylvanas mentally scoffed at the phrasing. “Condition”. Of course, the Life Binder would see their undeath as something to _cure_ , to _fix_. “Revert” was just another word for it. Although, if Sylvanas was being honest with herself, she couldn’t deny a twinge of hope she felt at the thought of having her life restored. And, apparently, her sisters had some feelings on that as well — out of the corner of her eye banshee noticed how they perked up, their gazes boring into her. Even Vereesa dropped her act for a few seconds, before catching herself. Yet, as much as Sylvanas wanted to see the expression on their faces, she didn’t allow herself to look in their direction.

“Your letter to me said as much,” she finally spoke, addressing Nozdormu. “However, I wonder why you needed to summon such an _engaging_ crowd here, when you could have discussed _my_ people’s fate with _me_ first.” Her tone was syrupy, but her nostrils flared and she glowered at the former Aspect with unhidden fury.

Nozdormu smiled, however. In fact, Sylvanas noticed that the bronze, usually calm and broody, now radiated something akin to excitement.

“I wished to explain the details of what we would do and what would happen to your people after the ritual, warchief,” he said, “and I believed it counterproductive to repeat myself twice. Thus, we decided to call the gathering… to _conserve time,_ so to speak.”

Sylvanas bristled at the implication. Jaina’s words from a few days before rang in her mind. _It probably means that he knows you’re going to accept_.

That would not do. She would not let anyone toy with her fate and the fate of her people.

“I haven’t said yes yet,” she spoke, and it seemed that the temperature around the temple dropped even lower.

“But don’t you wish to know what awaits you and your people if you do?” countered Nozdormu. “There are several… complications that are going to arise, should you agree, and, unfortunately, they concern not only Forsaken, but also both of your mortal factions. They need to be addressed.”

Sylvanas gritted her teeth, but before she could give the insolent former Aspect a tongue lashing, Jaina spoke up. “Nozdormu, Lady Alexstrasza mentioned that this ritual you speak of is tied to the magic your flight has discovered. Am I correct in assuming that it’s _time magic_ we are discussing?”

“Yes,” Khadgar piped in. “I don’t suppose I should remind _you_ of all… uh… dragons, that messing with time is extremely dangerous. The potential for time loops, _paradoxes_ , or the unraveling of the timeways is…” he trailed off, noticing the bronze dragon nodding along and smiling at him rather patronizingly.

“I understand your concerns, archmage, and yes, Lady Jaina, you are correct — the magic we propose to implement is indeed a variation of time magic that my flight uses. However, there’s no need to fear for our timeway, since the ritual, or, rather, a sequence of spells we propose won’t change the time itself. Only the _effect_ it had on people.”

While the mages contemplated what the former Aspect said, Sylvanas still considered the explanation he’d given to be too vague.

“What exactly are you proposing?” she demanded, getting his attention once again.

“There is a spell that is capable of reversing the flesh — living or dead — in time. We would use it on any willing Forsaken and bring their bodies to the point they were right prior to their deaths. Thus, they would be alive again.”

An impressed murmur rose from the gathered leaders.

“Magic like that sounds quite useful,” loudly said Modera, clearly thoughtful. “Can it be used for other means?”

“To heal grave wounds, for example?” suddenly suggested Anduin.

“Or as an anti-aging spell, perhaps?” Modera glanced at the king, clearly displeased at being interrupted.

Nozdormu sighed, for the first time looking rather upset.

“Unfortunately, there are side effects to such a reversal. And they are the main reason I wanted to gather all of you here.” He nodded to Sylvanas, finally acknowledging the displeasure she had expressed earlier. “The reversal also affects memories. They are written in our minds, and our minds are tied to our bodies. Once the body is altered to its past state, the same will happen to its memories. In other words, the Forsaken who decide to undergo the ritual would become their _exact_ selves at the moment of their demise. They won’t remember their undeath. For them it would be as if they never died and simply skipped a few years… or a dozen.” At that the former Aspect turned back to Modera. “So no, archmage, I’m afraid you cannot use this magic for an eternal youth spell.” Then he glanced at Anduin. “Although young king’s idea has merit. Granted the wounded won’t remember anything past the moment they were about to be injured, but I suppose it’s a small price to pay for their lives and health.”

Silence filled the air as Nozdormu allowed everyone to mull over what he said. Surprisingly, the first to speak up was Alleria.

“These people… Since they won’t remember what they were…” she hesitated, as if trying to find words. “They won’t again become…”

“ _Evil_ , sister?” Sylvanas’ grin was full of smugness she didn’t really feel. In fact, she almost felt guilty at the pained look that ghosted over Alleria’s features. But the banshee steeled herself against it. As much as she secretly wanted this, it was near impossible to mend the rift between her and her sisters…

_Except now it isn’t,_ she briefly thought, before squashing this hope as well.

Nozdormu ignored Sylvanas’ quip and answered Alleria. “Each person is different, so it’s impossible to say what path they will take once restored to their former selves. However, I think it’s safe to say they won’t become the exact same people they became in undeath. After all, our lives largely determine our characters.” Then he addressed other leaders, including Sylvanas. “But you must understand — these people will not think themselves Forsaken. If we decide to go through with this, you will have no small amount of Lordaeron humans and Quel’Thalas high elves on your hands. And I don’t need to remind you that their kingdoms no longer exist. They will be lost, in a world so alike and yet so different from the one they remember...”

Lor’themar, who until then was silently glancing at Sylvanas from time to time, straightened.

“That is not true. Sin’dorei will be happy to accept every high elf back in Silvermoon,” he proudly spoke.

“As will the Silver Covenant,” quickly snapped Vereesa, boring her angry gaze into Lord Theron.

Lor’themar scowled. “Did you not hear what the Timeless One said, _Ranger General_? These elves will be from the time before the Sunwell was corrupted. They will _need_ its magic to sustain them. Or did you forget the torment we all had to go through?”

“Dalaran has plenty of magic sources,” Jaina spoke coldly, almost indifferently, but there was no hiding fire in her eyes. While she and Theron managed to work well together in recent times, especially during the campaign against Azshara, they were still very far from forgiving each other. “And I’m sure Kirin-Tor will find a way to help these quel’dorei to get rid of their addiction forever.” After that Jaina once again looked at Nozdormu. “However, I must ask you something, Nozdormu. You said you will revert their flesh, but what about their souls? After all, they carry our memories as well.”

Sylvanas nodded at that. A long time ago, when the Alliance and the Horde fought against the Lich King here in Northrend, they saw ghosts in Icecrown. Ghosts, like the one of Uther Lightbringer, who remembered their lives quite well.

Besides, there was something else about Forsaken souls that bothered Sylvanas…

And it seemed that Nozdormu knew exactly what it was, because he then said, “You are, of course, correct, Lady Proudmoore. If the spell only affected their bodies, over time they might have restored some of their memories thanks to the imprint that remains on the soul.” He sighed. “Alas, we will have to mend their souls as well. When these people were raised, their souls were torn from the Shadowlands — a realm where dead go to either rest or receive penance. To escape Shadowlands is considered an unforgivable crime, so now if these people were to die again, they will not be allowed their rest. Instead, they will be sent to the horrific Maw, and it won’t matter whether they’ve led a virtuous life or not.” Then the Timeless One looked directly into Sylvanas’ eyes. “We will restore the soul of every Forsaken, undo all the torment they came through and remove the mark Shadowlands left on them. Thus, they will be spared the eternity in the Maw.”

The world faded around Sylvanas. This. This was all she dreamed about, her ultimate goal since the day she threw herself from the top of the Icecrown Citadel. This was the reason she accepted the bargain with Val’kyr — to delay the inevitable, to postpone the infinite agony she and all her people were doomed to suffer.

As the banshee looked in the eyes of the former bronze Aspect, she saw that he knew. From the very beginning he knew what her answer would be. And now he knew that this was _why_.

* * *

Jaina looked on as Sylvanas and her envoy disappeared through the portal conjured by Thalyssra. After Nozdormu revealed the details of his proposition, the warchief declared that she needed to think it over. The rest of the leaders also agreed that it was too much to take in on the spot, so everyone decided to reconvene in two weeks.

Alleria was also looking at the retreating Horde leaders, while Vereesa stared at the horizon, her face pale and lips pursed. As soon as Thalyssra herself stepped through the portal and it winked out of existence, the eldest sister turned to Jaina.

“Lord Admiral… Jaina. Do you think what dragons say is possible? Can they really…” she took he deep breath. “Can they really bring her back?”

Jaina didn’t even have enough energy to be surprised at the sudden show of vulnerability from Alleria. Right now, she was desperately trying to cope with what this turn of events meant for Sylvanas… and for herself.

“I am… uncertain,” she spoke wearily. “Time magic is an incredibly complicated field. However, from what Nozdormu said, I don’t see why it could not be done.”

Alleria nodded and looked at Vereesa, touching her arm. Vereesa flinched, as if jolted awake, and looked back at her sister.

“When we met at the Spire,” slowly began the eldest sister, “Sylvanas told us she sometimes wishes she was alive. We never learned if it was the truth or a lie, but… You know her better than I do now, Vereesa. Do you think she will agree to it?”

Jaina’s heart clenched. Oh, she knew that it was true. Sylvanas herself once told the mage how much she hated her undeath. But Jaina couldn’t tell that to the sisters — after all, they had no idea Lord Admiral of Kul-Tiras was having an affair with the warchief of the Horde. Jaina’s friends knew she had _someone_ — there was no hiding the braided platinum chain that marked an elven token of promise hanging on her neck. However, the token itself was always hidden under the neck of her blouse — she had to adjust her clothing to a more conservative one after receiving it. If Windrunner sisters saw the flat arrowhead that currently rested between her breasts, they would definitely recognize intricate patterns engraved on it, and all hell would break loose.

While Jaina was lost in thought, Vereesa lowered her eyes and began shaking her head. Her lips trembled.

Alleria frowned. “You think she’ll refuse?”

“No. No… I… I don’t know.” Vereesa took a deep breath. “And I don’t want to know.”

“Vereesa…”

“No, Alleria.” Vereesa looked at her sister almost pleadingly. “I mourned for her once. Then I heard she was alive and I hoped… only to learn that she was still _dead_. Dead and working for the enemy. I can’t do this again. _Please_ , don’t make me hope again.”

It seemed like Alleria was going to say something, but then changed her mind. Instead, she looked at Jaina.

“We’ll be returning to Stormwind now. Jaina, I know you don’t need it, but… do you want a portal to Boralus? You look… tired.”

Jaina supposed her emotional turmoil was showing despite her efforts to hide it. Still, she shook her head.

“Thank you, Alleria, but I must decline. I’m not going to Boralus right now.” She ignored the knowing look Vereesa sent her token — or, rather, its chain that was visible — and the way her friend smiled slightly.

_Well, at least she’s smiling now_ , Jaina thought. _If she knew where I was going, she’d bring me to Boralus by force and lock me in the Keep_.

Thinking of Orgrimmar — her next destination — Jaina suddenly remembered the bronze courier and her invitation. Still wondering if it was a veiled threat or a warning, Jaina hastily said her goodbyes to the Windrunner sisters and walked toward Nozdormu.

“Timeless One, may I have a moment of your time?”

Nozdormu excused himself from conversation with Alexstrasza and Kalec. The latter looked rather upset at that, since he was hoping Jaina approached to speak with him, but he didn’t say anything.

“Of course, Lady Proudmoore.” The bronze waved his hand, inviting her to follow him, and together they strode across the platform, putting some distance between them and the rest of the group. “Did you wish to discuss the workings of the ritual and spells we talked about?”

“Yes… But that’s not the only reason I wished to speak with you.” Jaina stopped, straightened her shoulders and looked squarely at Nozdormu. “Forgive me if I’m being blunt, but… How did your courier know where to find me to pass the invitation for this meeting?”

The bronze dragon paused, as if not knowing how to react to this question.

“I assume you asking me this means I won’t be sending it to the Proudmoore Keep?” he carefully asked.

Jaina frowned.

“No, it… Wait, what do you mean by _‘won’t be sending’_?”

Nozdormu smiled, his uncertainty gone, and put on a slight air of superiority.

“It means that I haven’t even sent them yet.” His smile widened when he saw her baffled expression. “There was simply too much to do. I was planning to do so this evening, but I suppose now I will have to wait until your location in the recent past will become known to me.” When Jaina opened her mouth to speak, he raised his hand. “But, please, Lady Proudmoore, do not tell it to me now, or we might create one of those paradoxes archmage Khadgar is so afraid of. I’ll just wait and find out by other means. After all, it doesn’t really matter if I send invitations today or the next century.” He chuckled. “Perks of being a bronze dragon — it’s never late to do _anything_.”

* * *

Jaina teleported to Sylvanas’ bedroom shortly after talking to Nozdormu. The sun has already set in Orgrimmar, but the room was empty. Just as Jaina prepared to wait for the warchief, she heard two loud voices behind the door, and one of them made the archmage flare her magic and prepare to cast an invisibility spell.

_Nathanos Blightcaller_.

However, after a few tense seconds Jaina noticed that the voices didn’t seem to get closer. She relaxed even further when she realized the second voice belonged to Sylvanas. Apparently, warchief and her pet Ranger Lord were in Sylvanas’ study, discussing today’s revelations.

“… can’t possibly believe they have good intentions!” Nathanos, usually the epitome of gallantry when it came to Sylvanas, was being surprisingly vocal. He didn’t cross the line where his loud complaints would become an offence to his monarch, but he certainly wasn’t about to lower his voice.

“You’re forgetting that craftiness and subterfuge are usually our go-to methods and not dragons’.” Sylvanas slightly amused drawl only barely hid her annoyance. While Nathanos usually had the liberty to speak his mind around the warchief, it seemed that today he managed to irritate her.

“Which is exactly why their plot is so transparent!” Nathanos went on a rant. “Even if their so-called ritual is not some nonsense made up to deceive us, their goals are still clear! They want to destroy us, my Queen, to remove our memories, to remove _you_! To cripple the Horde and annihilate everything we — _you!_ — have achieved!”

Jaina felt her chest tighten. While she didn’t believe Nozdormu and his flight were doing this for some strategic gain, Nathanos was right in one thing — the ritual _would_ destroy Sylvanas as she was now. All of her memories past the point of her first death would be wiped.

Including memories of Jaina.

“Tell me, Nathanos…” Sylvanas’ almost wistful tone made Jaina push the thought away for now and listen carefully. “Don’t you ever wish you were still alive?”

The long pause followed. Jaina held her breath, straining her hearing and wishing she could see both Sylvanas’ and — surprisingly — Nathanos’ faces.

“No,” he finally answered, his voice firm. “The living had time and time again shown us and other Forsaken how much we meant to them in life. Our undeath was a gift for them, a chance to see and to be with those of their loved ones they thought long lost. But they have cursed us, belittled us, killed us. So no, I would never wish to become one of them again. We — the Forsaken — know the true meaning of loyalty. We knew it in life, and in undeath. We can only trust each other. And we only _have_ each other… my lady.”

Silence stretched once again. At last, Jaina heard the scraping of a chair — apparently, Sylvanas stood up from behind her desk.

“Then that is where you and I differ, my champion.” As always, Jaina didn’t hear undead elf’s footsteps, but next time Sylvanas’ voice sounded closer — as if she moved toward the hall. “You are dismissed for now.”

“My lady, please, tell me you are not seriously considering…”

“Remember your place, Nathanos.” Her tone became icy. “You are _dismissed_.”

After a short pause — Jaina could easily imagine how Blightcaller bowed to Sylvanas — he answered, “Or course, my queen.” Then the archmage heard his footsteps that soon faded in the distance.

Jaina turned around and came closer to the window, crossing her arms. As soon as she did that, the door creaked slightly, and a few seconds later she was wrapped in a pair of strong slender arms, cool soft lips pressing into her neck.

It used to put Jaina at ease, even though she stood in the middle of once enemy city. However, today the mage felt her stomach churn. After all, it seemed that this bliss, her _happiness_ — the one she managed to find in an unlikeliest of places with the unlikeliest of people — was rapidly coming to an end.

Sylvanas, however, didn’t yet know what thoughts plagued her beloved.

“Ah, there’s my favorite little mage,” she drawled in between planting kisses on Jaina’s neck and the nook of her shoulder. “Heard much of our conversation?”

“Only the end of it,” answered the mage, turning around in Sylvanas’ arms and wrapping her own around warchief’s neck. “Tides, I never thought I would agree with Nathanos on _anything_.”

Sylvanas’ eyebrows shot up nearly to her hairline.

“Oh? Do you also think dragons plan some sort treachery?” she asked incredulously.

Jaina huffed. Now _that_ thought was definitely preposterous. While intelligent and cunning, reds, bronzes and greens were usually as noble as they get. The archmage had no doubt that their goal was exactly as stated — to help the Forsaken. And while blues and black dragons were on occasion known for their convoluted and wily plans, they had nothing to do with this project. Besides, she doubted Kalec would allow his flight to do any harm, and Wrathion — well, he disappeared after helping nations of Azeroth defeat N’Zoth. Nobody had seen him ever since.

“Not the part I was agreeing with,” said Jaina, looking at Sylvanas meaningfully and cupping her face. Banshee’s piercing gaze softened.

“Odd,” she murmured. “One would think you’d be among those who would be happy to see the horrible banshee returned to her less terrifying self.” When Jaina lowered her gaze sadly, Sylvanas touched her chin slightly, raising her face up again. “Do you not want me alive, Jaina?”

Jaina swallowed thickly, taking a step back. Her heart was heavy and her mind a mess. She knew what she wanted, but couldn’t help feeling guilty for wanting it. Taking a few seconds to collects herself, the mage turned to the window and crossed her arms again.

“It doesn’t matter what I want. I can’t be selfish. Not in this.”

Sylvanas didn’t move, standing right behind Jaina, close enough to touch, but not touching.

“You _don’t_ want me alive?” she quietly asked.

The mage closed her eyes. Why was it so difficult for her to speak? “I… I don’t…”

“Jaina?”

“I don’t want to lose you,” she finally blurted out. “And I can’t be sure that you’ll feel the same way about me when you’re alive again.” She sighed. “In fact, I _know_ you won’t. You’ll forget _everything_. You’ll forget _me_.”

“Jaina…” Sylvanas finally moved, stepping closer to the mage and touching her hand. Jaina turned around and looked at her, tears glistening in her eyes.

“But it doesn’t matter,” she soldiered on, her voice seemingly firm even if she herself was on the verge of breaking down. “I remember what you told me. How much you hate this existence. How much you wish Arthas gave you a clean death you craved. How you are afraid of the darkness that awaits you and your people in the end, all because of what _he_ did to you.” Jaina shook her head. “Don’t think of me when you make this decision, Sylvanas. There’s far more at stake than one little mage’s heart.”

“It’s hard to do so when you are the little mage,” whispered Sylvanas, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. “I don’t wish to leave you behind, _Dalah’surfal_. You are next to the only thing that makes this curse bearable.”

Jaina sighed, closing her eyes and reveling in their closeness.

“Oh, how I wish we could do what we wished, and have what we wanted,” she whispered. “But it isn’t just about us, what we want. It’s also about your people and what is best for them.”

Sylvanas had no answer to that. She knew Jaina was right. And, despite not being Aspects of Time, they both clearly knew what future held, and what Sylvanas was going to tell Nozdormu.

Without a word, the banshee queen kissed Jaina, and the mage melted into the kiss without hesitation. Their time together was running out, but for now they had it… and each other.

* * *

Three days later Sylvanas informed Nozdormu that she and her people will be accepting his offer.

Immediately arguments broke out among faction leaders regarding the future fate of the reformed Forsaken. Two hottest (and not in the fun way) topics were which faction these people will belong to, and where they will live. The question of humans was settled almost immediately — Anduin pronounced that they will be happy to accept these Lordaeron ‘survivors’ into his kingdom, just as they have once accepted refugees from Stormwind after the First War. Nobody tried to object to that. However, when it came to the elves, fights nearly broke out at least twice. Lor’themar claimed that they all were rightful citizens of Silvermoon and as such belonged to the Horde. Genn laughed in his face, saying, that these elves will revert to become _quel’dorei_ , and would likely die rather than join the Horde.

That nearly started a third fight.

It didn’t help that Sylvanas wasn’t providing any input on the matter. Being the warchief of the Horde she couldn’t undermine her faction’s efforts to retain her rangers and elven death knights, especially since they were losing humans to the Alliance. However, as much as she loathed to admit it, old wolf was right. Sylvanas remembered her past self well enough to know that she would rather impale herself on the Frostmourne again than join ranks of trolls and orcs.

The reasonable solution came, unsurprisingly, from Jaina. She suggested to settle the Forsaken elves in a neutral zone between two factions, and then letting them decide their fate for themselves.

Although, the question of _where_ they would find such neutral ground was tricky as well. At first it was suggested that newly reformed Forsaken settle in Lordaeron — a thought that outraged Genn to no end and amused Sylvanas. However, this discussion was quickly put to bed by Dalaran wizards — they had to remind both delegations that quite recently Lordaeron was filled with Blight by a certain banshee and had its walls ruined by a certain mage. And both tasks — restoring the city and removing the Blight to make it habitable again — were quite difficult to accomplish, not to mention time-consuming.

The solution to this problem suddenly came from Vereesa. The youngest Windrunner sister never took part in the discussions until then, yet she quietly said that elves could settle in the Windrunner village. The village and the Spire became border region right after Alliance took most of Eastern Plaguelands during first phase of the Fourth War, and they were currently uninhabited. However, they could be restored. As a bonus, the village was not very distant from the Sunwell, so the reformed elves wouldn’t need to suffer from magic withdrawal. Delegation from Dalaran readily agreed that this was an excellent solution, and immediately offered their help in cleansing the land from remnants of the Scourge and lingering necrotic energies. The Alliance was happy with the offer as well.

Lor’themar tried to object, and after some grumbling from him, Sylvanas had to intervene. She harshly reminded him that Windrunner village was not only _his domain_ , but also _her ancestral home_. Finally, Regent Lord reluctantly ceded this land to the reformed Forsaken.

The last question to be discussed did not involve most of the leaders, but even that didn’t save Sylvanas from arguments. When Nozdormu asked the banshee queen to determine the succession in which Forsaken will be reverted, Sylvanas demanded she go first. Her reasoning was that her being the banshee put her case among the most difficult ones, and if the ritual failed, she wanted her people safe. That, however, riled Nathanos up. Undead Ranger Lord vehemently objected, claiming that the Forsaken couldn’t afford losing her. Sylvanas tried to placate him by saying that she was going to leave him in charge and that she trusted him to lead the Forsaken through the weeks of the ritual. When even that didn’t shut Nathanos up, she had to force him into silence. He sulked at first, but then became even more obsessed with her protection, following her almost everywhere.

In the whirlwind of discussions and preparation, and with Nathanos constantly hovering at her side, Sylvanas didn’t have time to meet with Jaina. They only saw each other in public during negotiations, and the rest of the time it seemed as if the mage was actively avoiding her. Or, rather, _giving her space_ to think things over. However, it was the last thing Sylvanas wanted. If these were her last days as herself, she wanted to spend them with the woman she loved. Alas, their precious time was consumed by talks and preparations. Finally, Sylvanas lost all her patience, and during one of the meetings she sent Velonara to pass Lord Admiral a message — to meet her in her rooms on the eve of the ritual.

Jaina appeared in the middle of the bedroom as soon as the sun set. Sylvanas was seated at a small table and writing something on a parchment.

“Finishing your orders?” the mage came closer and leaned her hip onto the edge of the table, facing Sylvanas.

Banshee shook her head. “Not really. I already made all the arrangements. Effective tomorrow Baine will take up the mantle of warchief, and Nathanos will become Regent Lord of the remaining Forsaken.”

Jaina hummed. “Baine is an inspired choice. He’s loved in the Horde and respected in the Alliance. He’s going to make a fine warchief.” Then the mage frowned. “But… what do you mean about Nathanos? I thought _all_ of the Forsaken decided to undergo the ritual?”

Sadness flashed on Sylvanas’ face.

“No. Not all. Nozdormu warned me that he cannot guarantee Nathanos will survive if they try to revert him. His case is… a complicated one.” When Jaina lifted an eyebrow, Sylvanas averted her gaze and said, “Let’s just say that I employed some… unconventional means to give him his flesh, and leave it at that.” She sighed heavily. “Besides, he was very much against the ritual in the first place. As were some other Forsaken.”

“They do not wish for their lives back?” Jaina whispered quietly, worriedly. Despite hearing Nathanos’ objections several weeks earlier, she didn’t even entertain a thought that someone in their right mind could honestly _want_ to remain undead.

Sylvanas chuckled ruefully. “They don’t _have_ much of an old life to speak of. When Arthas was filling ranks of the Scourge, he didn’t only raise soldiers and citizens. He raised every body he came across — including bandits, and beggars, and every other person who didn’t have a place in this world and was unlucky enough to get in Arthas’ way. For them becoming part of the Forsaken was a second chance at life. They were my most loyal subjects. After my rangers, of course.”

Jaina nodded in understanding. Then her gaze fell upon the parchment again.

“Then what’s this?”

Sylvanas placed the quill aside and leaned back in the chair.

“My rangers came up with these… letters to our past selves. There are things some of us don’t wish to forget,” she looked at Jaina meaningfully, “and this way we can remember them. In a fashion.”

Jaina hummed, looking at the letter but not quite reading it.

“It’s a lot of text though,” she noted.

“Well, I did have a very eventful undeath,” Sylvanas drawled with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “My past self might want to know what really happened and whom she can and cannot trust.”

Jaina snorted in disbelief. “You know, most would see this as an opportunity for a fresh start. Do you really wish to drag all your petty grievances over with you?”

Sylvanas looked at her with mock indignation.

“ _Petty_ grievances? Being stabbed in the back by those I trusted is _petty_?”

Jaina’s face grew serious at that. “Sylvanas, please tell me you didn’t write anything bad about Vereesa.”

Sylvanas arched her eyebrow. “Anything bad? Like what? Like reuniting with me, giving me hope, and then _leaving_ me behind without a second glance? Like _betraying_ me?” By the end of the last sentence her voice split into several banshee undertones, but she didn’t raise it. However, Jaina kept glaring at her, and Sylvanas relented. “No, no matter the temptation, I didn’t write anything like that,” she grumbled. “Despite what Little Moon and I had done and tried to do to each other… I don’t want to ruin this opportunity to mend things. Both with her and Alleria.”

Jaina stood up, circled the chair and wrapped her arms around Sylvanas, nuzzling into her neck and soothing her beloved. “What did you write about them then?”

“That things were difficult between us. That I almost lost them…” Then Sylvanas tensed and added quietly, “And that it was almost entirely my fault.” Then she moved her head, as if shaking the melancholy off, and looked at Jaina with a crooked smile. “I’m almost finished with that letter. In fact, I left the best for last. What do you think I should write about a certain mage who captured my undead heart and made it beat again?”

A shadow of a smile crossed Jaina’s face at the joke, but she squashed the warm feeling Sylvanas’ words stirred in her chest. With a dread, she realized what she had to say.

“I don’t think you should write about her at all.”

Sylvanas’ gaze snapped to Jaina’s, her trademark grin gone along with all traces of mirth.

“What?” she demanded, searching the mage’s face. When Jaina didn’t answer, she took her hand, gripping it tightly. “Jaina, I don’t want to forget you!”

“I know. I know…” Jaina squeezed her hand back. “I don’t want it either. But think about it — once the ritual is complete, you won’t remember anything we shared and you won’t have any feelings for me. This letter won’t magically create them anew, it will only make things awkward between us, placing such an obligation on you. Maybe it will even push you away from me.” With her free hand she cupped Sylvanas’ face and smiled. “I’ll just have to win you over again the usual way.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Sylvanas drawled, smirking. Then suddenly her face darkened. “Actually, now that I think about it…”

Jaina raised an eyebrow, smiling sadly.

“What? Are you saying your past self could never fall for me?” she teased half-heartedly, trying to hide her fear behind a joke. She was truly terrified of the possibility that Sylvanas’ past self would see her differently.

Sylvanas sighed — something that usually amused Jaina to no end, since the Forsaken didn’t need to breathe at all, much less sigh. However, now it worried the archmage.

“I remember myself back then. I was… different. After the Second War, I started to despise humans. Even more so after Alleria followed one to Draenor. And I always hated mages.” She frowned. “I was _a fool_.”

Jaina chuckled. “You hated humans, yet you’ve made one a Ranger Lord.” She shook her head. “Don’t worry about us. I’m certain you will come back to me, eventually.” She managed to say it with more conviction than she actually felt, which earned her a small smile from Sylvanas. “Though, I suppose, now I have to take this off.” The mage reached for her token chain, when a gauntleted hand suddenly encircled her wrist.

“Don’t,” the warchief was frowning now. She reached with her other hand, gently freeing the token from under Jaina’s blouse, so that now it was visible. “Keep it.” Then her expression became lighter and slyer. “I’ll need something to ward off your suitors until I know better to do so myself again.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t ward _you_ off,” Jaina teased, but let her hand fall.

Sylvanas, still holding her wrist, tugged Jaina closer, until she was sitting in her lap. “As if anything could keep me from my little mage,” she murmured, before claiming her lips in a searing kiss.

* * *

They said their goodbyes in the morning and teleported to Wyrmrest separately. Sylvanas was being accompanied by her rangers — all, except Nathanos, — who were supposed to make up the first wave of the “restored” Forsaken. As soon as they came through the portal, they were greeted by a cohort of bronze dragons led by Nozdormu. The dragons whisked her rangers away to wait for their turn, while former Aspect invited Sylvanas to follow him.

Together they went down to the lowest levels of the temple.

“The ritual will take place in the Chamber of Aspects,” explained the Timeless One. “It is a place where many powerful forces converge, and we will need their energy for such a potent ritual to work properly.”

Sylvanas only nodded. She didn’t tell him that it was a great honor for her to be allowed into dragons’ holiest of places — which it was, truly. But these were the very last moments of her unlife, and she didn’t want to waste them on meaningless talk. She also didn’t ask the bronze what would happen if the ritual didn’t work properly — her decision was already made, and there was no point in reconsidering it now.

As they walked through a tunnel that led to the Chamber, they were stopped by a whirlwind of sand that appeared out of thin air right in front of them. Alarmed, Sylvanas gripped the hilt of her dagger, but Nozdormu raised his hand, stopping her. As he looked at the whirlwind, a tall figure stepped out of it.

A figure that looked exactly like Nozdormu.

Well… Not _exactly_. Usually, when in his elven form, Nozdormu walked around bare-chested, donning only a shoulder piece, a heavy necklace and armored skirt. And that’s how Nozdormu standing next to Sylvanas looked like. But second Nozdormu, who just appeared before them, wore scarlet sin’dorei robes instead.

The newcomer raised his hand, pointing something at Sylvanas. She noticed that the object in his hand was octagonal and seemingly metallic, but as she tried to find any other distinctive feature, it began to glow white.

The next second similar radiance surrounded Sylvanas as well.

Warchief bared her teeth, gripping her dagger tighter. However, it didn’t feel like the object and its radiance did anything to her. Before she managed to ask, what the hell is going on, the glow faded and second Nozdormu turned to the one standing next to her.

“Wait until she asks you to do that,” he urged his other self. When first Nozdormu nodded, sand once again began spinning around the second one.

Only when the second Timeless One disappeared, Sylvanas had finally released her dagger and, still frowning, asked, “What did he do?”

“Something I wish I had sense to do at this point in time,” Nozdormu answered ruefully. He was looking at the place his future self disappeared with a curious expression on his elven face.

Sylvanas glanced at the former Aspect.

“Since you know you can do it _now_ , can’t you just do it?”

The Timeless One smiled sadly and shook his head, waving for her to continue walking.

“And to disrupt the true timeway? I think not, warchief. You’ve heard my future self — I’ll have to wait until you ask me to do this.”

Sylvanas felt her patience wearing thin. She didn’t like these riddles. She especially didn’t like them now — a few minutes before she was about to lose her memories.

“To do _what_? That _thing_ — what was it?”

“You will know. _In due time_.”

That didn’t quell Sylvanas’ worries in the slightest, but the second they walked into the Chamber of Aspects her eyes landed on the people who waited there, and she forgot all about it.

There were a handful of bronze dragons — Chronormu and Anachronos among them. Alexstrazsa and several of her flight were here as well — they were supposed to tend to Sylvanas and the rest immediately after the ritual. Jaina was also present… as were Alleria and Vereesa.

“What in the Void are you two doing here?” demanded Sylvanas, striding toward them, her ears angrily pinned to her hood, eyes blazing. Her sisters looked at her with guarded expressions, but it was Jaina who answered first.

“Alleria and Vereesa are here for your sake, warchief,” she began, taking a small step forward and subtly positioning herself almost between the sisters.

Sylvanas stopped and raised an eyebrow. Sparing one more glare at her sisters, she crossed her arms and turned her attention to Jaina. “Explain,” she curtly spoke.

“Since the ritual will erase your memories, you will be confused and disoriented once it’s complete,” began Jaina. “You will need someone to help you make sense of what’s happened during the last decade.”

Sylvanas frowned. “I thought our _arrangement_ was supposed to see to that, Lady Proudmoore.” Her sisters exchanged wary glances. They didn’t know about the letter, and if they did, they might have refused to let her old self know anything from and about the Banshee Queen. Besides her rangers, who were all in a similar predicament, the only person Sylvanas trusted to pass her letter on was Jaina, so the two agreed she would do it shortly after the ritual.

“And I will honor it,” Jaina nodded, ignoring worried looks of the eldest and youngest Windrunner sisters. “But think about it, in a few minutes you will find yourself in an unknown place, surrounded by complete strangers. It would help to have some trustworthy faces nearby.”

Sylvanas scoffed. “Trustworthy?”

Jaina raised an eyebrow. “Did your old self trust anyone more than Alleria and Vereesa?”

Sylvanas didn’t answer immediately. Instead, her eyes flickered in the direction of her sisters. Both looked uncertain. While Vereesa’s gaze wandered about the room nervously, Alleria stared at Sylvanas, her eyes searching. It seemed as if she wanted to say something but was stopping herself.

“Very well,” the banshee finally relented. “I suppose it makes sense.” She turned in the direction of the altar and moved toward it. She was about to ascend the stairs, when Alleria finally spoke up.

“Perhaps it is best if Vereesa is the only one present for the ritual,” she said hastily, addressing Sylvanas. Undead elf stopped at the bottom of the stairs but didn’t turn, slight movement of her ears the only indication that she was listening. “I’d rather spare you any additional shock, and my presence will certainly be quite a surprise.”

Silence hang between them. After a few seconds, banshee turned her head slightly to the side and quietly said, “A happy surprise.”

Not saying another word, she walked up to the altar. A few seconds later she heard that Jaina and her sisters followed.

Dragons in their humanoid forms already waited for her.

“Please, lie down and try to relax,” chirped a fair-haired gnome — Chronormu, Sylvanas remembered — who wasn’t even tall enough for her head to reach the top of the altar.

As Sylvanas complied, she saw Vereesa out of the corner of her eye. Her sister tugged on Jaina’s sleeve and whispered something to her. Sylvanas strained to hear what was said.

“What was it about an arrangement? Jaina, what did she ask of you?” Vereesa sounded confused and worried. Sylvanas had to force herself not to smile — truly, what sort of secret dealings could Lord Admiral of the Alliance have with the Warchief of the Horde?

“Don’t worry about it,” Jaina whispered back.

Vereesa’s expression turned incredulous. “You realize that saying ‘don’t worry about it’ makes me worry even more?!”

Her whisper became too loud, and the dragons shushed her.

“We are ready,” announced Nozdormu, when everyone settled. “Is there anything you wish to say before we begin, warchief?”

She shook her head, staring at the ceiling that seemed too far, far away. “Just get on with it.”

The dragons took positions around the altar and spread their hands. As Sylvanas sensed them calling to the powers rested below the temple, she suddenly felt agitation rising within her chest. She shifted her head slightly and looked at Jaina. The mage held her gaze, her eyes full of love and caring, and Sylvanas’ fears abated.

Nozdormu spoke three words — powerful, ancient words, that echoed through the chamber, stirring the currents of time and bending them to the will of the Timeless One. Yet, as Sylvanas felt herself being caught in that current and swept away, she kept looking at Jaina, into her warm, loving blue eyes, their color reminding her of the ocean and clear sky...


	2. Ranger General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvanas is one angry elf, Jaina is a badass mage, former Dark Rangers are horny and Sylvanas is mightily confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta-read, sorry for any and all mistakes. As before, any feedback is greatly appreciated

She stares into the cruel, mocking, icy-blue eyes and knows her end has come.

Blood runs red from her wounds, but she knows she’s not going to bleed out. No, something far more sinister awaits her, something horrible, brought to her by the hand that had slain her people, on a tip of a cursed runeblade that corrupted everything it touched. Yet, as the blade flashes, preparing to end her life and rend her soul, she cannot tear her gaze from death knight’s frosty, dead eyes and his cruel, cruel face, framed by silvery hair…

Sylvanas blinks. Suddenly she thinks she sees something warm in the silver. Streak of gold, like a ray of the sun. Her wounds no longer hurt, and she no longer feels the icy grip of fear, fear for her own fate and that of her people. Has Belore decided to grace her with this moment of peace before eternal agony?

She blinks again. No longer she stares into a face of the monster who brought ruin to her homeland. Now there’s a woman in front of her, human woman with ocean-blue eyes and silvery-white hair with a single streak of gold. Her face is not contorted in cold fury, but shines with warmth and concern…

Sylvanas gasped, and at the same time several figures rushed to her, obscuring the human woman from her sight. As Sylvanas looked around and tried to get her bearings, she realized she was no longer in the field. Now she was in an enormous chamber, lying on what looked like an altar. While she didn’t quite like the implication, she tried to focus on the people that surrounded her.

There were five — four women and one man. All had elven features, although two women’s heads were adorned with something that looked like horns. The chestnut-haired elfish man stood between him. He eyed Sylvanas with a look of quiet satisfaction. Paying him no mind, Sylvanas looked at the last two.

Her breath hitched. There, several steps from the altar stood her youngest sister, Vereesa, and next to her…

Next to her was _Alleria_.

“ _Anar’alah Belore_ ,” whispered Sylvanas, not quite believing her eyes. “Alleria? _How?_ ” She tried to sit and reach for her long-lost sibling, but one of the women with horns put a gentle hand on her shoulder and insistently pushed her back down.

“Please, lie still,” the red-haired elf with horns spoke in a rich, warm voice. “We need to assess you condition.”

Sylvanas wanted to argue, but she was deathly tired and, hearing the power hidden in this mysterious woman’s voice, she stilled. However, she kept stealing glances at her sisters, both of whom — especially the eldest — were looking at her intently with a strange look on their faces… as if it was _she_ who had just gotten back from the dead, and not Alleria.

That thought jolted Sylvanas and she reflected on what was happening mere seconds before she ended up here. Remembering the battle and her defeat, she felt her chest constrict.

“Did I die?” she quietly asked, looking at no one in particular, afraid to see the confirmation on their faces. “Is this the afterlife?”

A thin snort came from her left, somewhere from _below_ the altar. Sylvanas lowered her gaze and saw someone she didn’t notice before — a fair-haired female gnome with bright-green eyes, twinkling in amusement.

“More like an after-undeath,” the gnome spoke cheerily. “Speaking of which…” She assumed a pose that, apparently, was supposed to look intimidating, yet was anything but, and tried to make her voice deep and haunting. “ _Welcome to the world of tomorrow!_.. And back to the world of the living, I guess.”

“Chronormu”, chastised the red-haired woman, who was still checking Sylvanas for injuries.

“Sorry, Life-Binder,” not at all apologetically chirped the gnome. “I couldn’t resist.”

 _Life-Binder? Are those… dragons?_ Sylvanas thought.

Rolling her eyes but smiling fondly, the red-haired woman, whom the gnome called the Life-Binder, looked at Sylvanas. “No, child, this is no afterlife. This is Wyrmrest Temple. You are a guest in our home.” When Sylvanas didn’t answer, the woman prodded her gently. “What is the last thing you remember?”

“I—” memories came rushing back — the horrors of the past days, the deaths of her friends and comrades, the unending, unyielding tide of death sweeping over their lands, destroying everything in its wake. And at the head of it — a cursed horseman with a wicked blade and a heart made of ice. Sylvanas shuddered. “—there was a battle. We were fighting the undead, but they just kept coming. Our magical defenses had failed, our army had been decimated. They advanced on the city, and king Anasterian ordered the evacuation. I positioned what remained of my rangers near the city to flank the enemy, to buy our people time. Then _that monster_ came in force and…” She raised her head and her eyes flew between people standing before her. “He defeated us. He was about to kill me! I saw…” she glanced in the direction where she saw a human woman before. Said woman came a few steps closer, clearly listening. When their eyes met, Sylvanas felt a strange feeling in her chest. Still, she tore her gaze away from the enigmatic stranger, and looked again at the elven-looking people — dragons? — in front of her. “How did I end up here? How did I even _survive_?”

“You didn’t,” the Life-Binder’s tone was gentle, as if she was afraid to hurt Sylvanas with her words. “The battle you speak of happened thirteen years ago. You and your rangers were slain and raised into the Scourge. A lot has happened since then, and only recently we have found a way to give your life back to you.” The dragon in elven form smiled at her warmly, as Sylvanas tried to wrap her mind around what was said. “We have also healed your injuries and I sense no death magic lingering in you. It seems the ritual was a success.” The elven man next to her grunted in agreement. The Life-Binder continued. “We have assigned you a room for a duration of your stay. You can rest there, while we attend to the others.”

“Others?” Sylvanas’ ears perked up at that. “Who… Are my rangers here as well? Can I see them?”

The Life-Binder smiled patiently.

“Yes, they are here. They will be restored to their lives, same as you. However, it had been agreed upon that the living should not see what others had become in undeath. You will see them after the rituals are complete. It’s for the best.” She took a step back and gestured to Vereesa and Alleria, inviting them to come closer. They took a hesitant step forward. “You sisters will guide you to your room, Sylvanas Windrunner. I’m sure there is much you wish to discuss with them.”

Alleria moved to her side and helped Sylvanas stand up. Still not quite believing that her eldest sister — _Alleria_ , their Lady Sun, — was really here, Sylvanas grasped her hand tightly and refused to let go.

As they were walking out of the chamber, Sylvanas’ eyes once again fell on the human woman. Her ocean blue eyes were on Sylvanas, as she silently followed sisters through the doors. The woman’s expression was completely unreadable and her gaze was searching Sylvanas’ face, as if looking for something. This gaze filled Sylvanas with the sense of… was it unease? Yes, that must be it, Sylvanas decided. The rapid beating of her heart and the odd feeling in her stomach that left her slightly breathless — that was _definitely_ unease…

* * *

“I did _what_?!”

They retreated to a spacious room the red dragonflight had provided Sylvanas. Newly restored Ranger General was sitting on her bed, legs crossed. Alleria was sitting next to her, their hands still linked, even though by now Sylvanas almost believed that her sister was real and wouldn’t vanish into a thin air as soon as she lets her go. While the eldest Windrunner was recounting the major happenings of the past decade, Vereesa silently stood opposite from them, leaning onto a table. From time to time, Sylvanas glanced at her, but it seemed that, since their reunion in the Chamber of Aspects, Vereesa not once looked at her. Instead, she was staring at the floor, her expression completely devoid of any emotion.

The human woman — a mage, Sylvanas decided, looking her over and sensing her arcane, — was also present. She remained near the entrance, leaning onto the doorframe. She also remained silent, but, unlike with the youngest Windrunner sister, her eyes were firmly fixed on Sylvanas’ face. Her intense gaze felt scorching on Sylvanas’ skin, the heat travelling through her chest to her lower belly. The elf was unnerved by her own reaction. She couldn’t quite place the woman, but she had a distinct impression that the mage _knew_ her. Did they meet while she was the undead banshee Alleria had told her about? If so, why was she here?

But these questions were pushed to the back of her mind when Alleria revealed to her what said banshee had been up to for all these years.

“Are you seriously telling me that I joined _the Horde_ … of my own free will? That I helped the rest of our people join it? And then some _troll_ made me _warchief_?” Sylvanas couldn’t believe her ears. Nothing Alleria had told her made sense. What was her undead self _thinking_?

“Yes,” Alleria answered. “I didn’t believe it at first either. Still, while the Horde and the Alliance fought together against the Burning Legion, things were somewhat… peaceful. But then you started the Fourth War. Attacked the night elves, captured Teldrassil. Then moved to the Eastern Kingdoms.” Alleria’s ears drooped. “We even battled once.”

“We? As in the Horde and the Alliance or…” When Alleria shook her head ruefully, Sylvanas eyes widened in alarm. “I fought against _you_?”

“Well, not quite. You trapped us — me and the rest of the Alliance commanders — in Lordaeron’s throne room and unleashed the Blight to end our lives.” Then Alleria turned her head to the mage and smiled weakly. “If not for Jaina, I wouldn’t have gotten out of there alive.”

The mage nodded, but remained silent. _Jaina_. Now Sylvanas had a name to the face, but it still didn’t explain anything about the woman. Besides, what Alleria had just told her shocked Sylvanas to her very core. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that she let her people ally with their enemies, betrayed everything she believed in…

Betrayed her own family.

That last thought made her look at Vereesa more closely.

“Vereesa,” she said, fearing what her sister’s answer will be. “What did I do to _you_ , that you won’t even look at me?”

Vereesa swallowed audibly and closed her eyes. Her lips trembled, but she didn’t say anything.

After a few seconds, the mage broke her silence for the first time.

“Vereesa, I pored over everything Nozdormu and his dragons found about such magics. I followed the ritual closely, and even now I sense no necrotic energies in Sylvanas,” Vereesa looked up at the mage, her eyes hopeful. Jaina held her gaze. “She _is_ the sister you remember. From before. There is no doubt about that.”

Vereesa swallowed again.

“The Banshee is really gone then?” she asked, her voice trembling.

A fleeting shadow crossed the mage’s face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. “Yes.” Her voice was firm.

Vereesa finally looked at Sylvanas. The middle sister had no idea what they were talking about, but she stilled, fearing she would drive Vereesa away even if she as much as blinked.

Suddenly, Vereesa launched herself at Sylvanas, wrapping her sister in a tight hug and burying her face in Sylvanas’ shoulder. The next second she began shaking, and Sylvanas heard her muffled sobs.

“I’m s-so sorry, Sylvanas,” Vereesa mumbled, her tears immediately soaking the front of her sister’s clothes — _the_ _Horde_ clothes, as the elf realized with disgust. “I didn’t dare to hope… I missed you so much.”

Sylvanas’ heart clenched, and she hugged Vereesa back, pulling her closer. She was afraid to think about what happened between them for her little sister to have such a reaction, but at the same time she felt a small amount of gratitude to the human woman who managed to convince Vereesa to at least give Sylvanas a chance. The elf glanced at the mage — she was looking at the sisters with a smile… but her expression was sad.

“Forgive me, my lady,” Sylvanas addressed the woman, trying to sound polite, “but.. who are you? I feel like I should know you, but I cannot quite remember you. Have we met before?”

The same strange look crossed the mage’s face again, but as she opened her mouth Vereesa pulled away from Sylvanas and, wiping her tears, answered for her.

“Oh. No, of course you wouldn’t remember.” Still clinging to her sister, she turned her head to the mage and beamed at her. “Sylvanas, let me introduce Lady Jaina Proudmoore, archmage of Dalaran, Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras and our dearest and most trusted friend in all of Azeroth...”

But Sylvanas already wasn’t listening. In fact, she didn’t hear anything after the mage’s name. _Jaina Proudmoore_. She would recognize that name anywhere, and not because it was the name of the only daughter of her former ally — admiral Daelin Proudmoore. No. Sylvanas knew this name because it was closely tied to another name. A hated name.

 _Arthas Menethil_.

Hot coils of anger flared inside Sylvanas’ chest and stomach as she realized who stood in front of her. The woman, who was promised to the monster that destroyed her homeland and killed her. The woman who stood by his side as he was falling into the darkness, and who let him rampage all over their continent long after.

“ _Proudmoore_ ,” Sylvanas repeated slowly, her eyes narrowing. “Yes. I remember. You were betrothed to _him_.”

Jaina first perked up at the recognition on Sylvanas’ face, but then frowned.

“Yes,” she began, “I…”

Sylvanas, however, wasn’t finished, as another thought came to her, “I also remember how nobles in Silvermoon wouldn’t shut up about Kael’Thas’ human sweetheart.” Kael’Thas, who, according to Alleria, also turned out to be a traitor and sold their nation out to the demons. Sylvanas’ anger quickly got the better of her. She cocked her head to the side and, not quite filtering her words, continued, “Tell me, Lady Proudmoore, do you bed every monster you meet?”

Vereesa gasped and Alleria grunted in shock. Lady Jaina, however, looked as if she was slapped.

Actually, Sylvanas mused, looking straight at the mage, she looked far worse. Disbelief and something else — was it _betrayal_? — flared on her face, but in a few seconds the mage’s expression changed into one of the bitter fury.

While Alleria and Vereesa were still reeling, Lady Jaina angrily strode across the room toward Sylvanas. Sylvanas pinned her ears to the back to her head, but she refused to back down. The mage stopped in front of the elf, stared her down for a second, and then threw something onto her lap. When Sylvanas glanced down, she saw an envelope. With confusion Ranger General recognized her own seal on it.

“There. A letter,” Jaina almost spat the words. “From your undead self to… this one. From one monster to another.”

With that she turned around on her heels and left the room, ignoring Vereesa desperately calling after her.

* * *

A week later, the reversing rituals were complete. All of the Forsaken — with the exception of Nathanos and those, who, like him, refused the offer — were reversed back into their former selves. After heartfelt reunions, many shed tears and bringing people up to speed on the events of the past decade, the group of the restored quel’dorei elves was ready to travel to Windrunner village.

They gathered outside the Wyrmrest Temple. Sylvanas’ rangers huddled together tightly trying to combat the chill of the Dragonblight. Their Ranger General, however, stood apart from the group. Not that she wasn’t cold — _Belore_ , she was — but she felt like in these uncertain times she had to project strength and confidence. Even if it meant turning into a giant elfcicle.

Vereesa kept Sylvanas company. It took her a few days, but she had finally accepted that her sister was back. After that things pretty quickly went to the way it used to be between them — meaning that Little Moon was constantly hovering next to her Lady Moon. It warmed Sylvanas’ heart by reminding her of simpler times, times when her little sister would look up to her and follow her around everywhere. Still, Sylvanas couldn’t help but sometimes catch small glances Vereesa sent her way — wary, haunted glances. And after witnessing her sister break down on the first day, she wondered if the reason for her following wasn’t love… but fear.

However, was she afraid _for_ Sylvanas… or _of_ her?

Sylvanas’ musings were cut short when Alleria emerged from the temple, followed immediately by Jaina Proudmoore. Former Ranger General’s eyes were immediately drawn to the mage, which was a common occurrence, it seemed. During this week, whenever she and Jaina were in the same room, Sylvanas’ gaze would constantly drift and linger on her… and not always on her face. Which, rationalized the elf, wasn’t surprising — after all, Lady Jaina was a stunning woman.

Alas, she was also a woman of an unbelievably poor taste. Kael’Thas? Seriously? And _Arthas Menethil_? Who could love a monster such as him? Who could spend so much time with him in youth and not see what this man was about to become? Sylvanas was getting riled up just by thinking about it. No, the woman deserved everything Sylvanas told her, no matter how harsh her words were.

“We’re almost ready to open a portal to Ghostlands,” Jaina announced, when she and Alleria came closer. “The mages of Silvermoon are lowering the wards around Windrunner village as we speak. When they are ready, Magister Rommath will give us a go.”

Vereesa, who was getting visibly irritated with all the waiting, nodded.

“Good,” she said, moving her weight from one foot to another and back again. “I swear, if I never have to see any snow again, I’ll die a happy woman.”

“Pretty sure you’ll be asking to go back to Northrend as soon as you see Ghostlands again,” Alleria said, and Vereesa shuddered — from cold or from some memory, Sylvanas couldn’t tell.

Before she could ask, Lady Jaina sighed and spoke, “True. Lord Theron sent a scouting party a few days ago. They say the Scourge still remains both in the village and the Spire, so we should expect some resistance.”

While the thought of the Scourge tainting her ancestral home and lands with their filth made Sylvanas’ blood boil, that wasn’t what caught her attention.

“ _We_?” she asked, frowning. “Are you coming with us now?”

That question earned her two identical glares from her sisters, both of whom gave her quite a tongue lashing for offending Lady Jaina the first time. Apparently, the mage was a good friend of theirs. Sylvanas could understand why Vereesa was so close with her — Little Moon had already told her about Theramore and her husband’s sacrifice, not to mention that she always had a weakness for powerful and intelligent mages. But former Ranger General couldn’t understand how Alleria could defend someone who willingly allied herself with the orcs, with the Horde, and refused to take action against them until it was too late.

Jaina’s eyes narrowed. Obviously, she had also heard the resentment in Sylvanas’ voice.

“Yes,” she spoke with a hint of challenge, raising her chin up. “The Council of Six has appointed me and archmage Modera to help your rangers overcome their arcane addiction.”

“The village and the Spire are both located in the vicinity of the Sunwell,” Sylvanas countered. “It doesn’t look like we’re going to need your services.”

“You will,” Jaina replied stubbornly. “Those quel’dorei who decide to join the Alliance might be denied access to Sunwell. So, it’s better to solve this problem beforehand.” Then the mage raised an eyebrow and looked at Sylvanas with a wry smile. “Unless you’ve already decided to join the Horde, Ranger General.”

Sylvanas clenched her teeth. The infuriating human’s remark had definitely struck a nerve. The situation her people were currently in — Silvermoon standing with the Horde and quel’dorei still loyal to her sisters standing with the Alliance — left her quite torn. And she still hadn’t had the chance to give Lor’themar a piece of her mind for joining the Horde in the first place.

Finally, Sylvanas looked Jaina up and down and dismissively said, “Fine. You can come. Just don’t get in the way of our arrows, and you’ll be safe.”

Jaina rolled her eyes, not believing the audacity of the woman in front of her.

“Why, thank you, Ranger General,” she answered sarcastically, “for your generous offer of protection. Us, feeble mages, would be doomed without it.”

Sylvanas on a whim took her tone in stride and answered with a mocking bow.

“You are always welcome, Lady Proudmoore. And thank _you_ for noticing my boundless generosity.”

“Boundless? Now you’re just being modest.” Out of the corner of her eye, Jaina and Sylvanas both noticed how Alleria and Vereesa exchanged worried glances, but they paid them no mind.

“And yet you keep complimenting me,” Sylvanas answered cheekily. “Wonder, what did I do to deserve that?”

Jaina scoffed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again.

“Oh, please. If you want someone to kiss your ass, go find Blightcaller. I bet he’d jump at the opportunity.”

After shocking present company with her crudeness — and delighting Sylvanas with it — the mage strode off in the direction of Modera and Kalec, who had just come out of temple and began preparations for casting the portal. Sylvanas watched after her, taking in the mage’s supple forms and hiding a wry smile. Lady Jaina Proudmoore sure was something, despite being utterly infuriating.

Then the elf remembered herself and turned back to her sisters.

“What is Blightcaller?” she asked, trying to ignore the knowing look Alleria sent her.

“Nathanos,” both sisters answered at the same time, and then Vereesa added, “That’s what he’s calling himself these days.”

Sylvanas sighed, internally shooting a prayer to Belore. Judging by Lady Jaina’s comment, it seemed that rumors about her and Nathanos’ relationship had followed her to undeath and beyond.

“Why, Sylvanas, you do not even look surprised,” came an amused low drawl from behind them. Three sisters turned and saw Lor’themar Theron approaching them.

“Theron,” Sylvanas greeted him, narrowing her eyes. She didn’t know how to react to her old friend and former comrade now — on one hand, she was happy he survived the trials and tribulations of the last decade, yet on another, a few comments her sisters had made in regards to him and the rest of the sin’dorei were worrying to say the least. “Or should I call you Regent Lord now?”

“Only if I can still call you _warchief_.” He grinned at the dirty look she gave him, but then his expression grew serious. “Jokes aside, I have some concerning news about Blightcaller. It seems that he and the remaining Forsaken had disappeared from Orgrimmar.”

Sylvanas frowned, but before she could ask Lor’themar why he was telling her this, Vereesa spoke up angrily, “He _escaped_? And you let him?”

Theron turned to the youngest Windrunner sister with the sourest expression he could muster.

“Nathanos Blightcaller is a free citizen of the Horde and currently a leader in his own right. I couldn’t _not_ let him go wherever he pleased.”

“Where is he now, then?” demanded Alleria. “What is he plotting?”

Lor’themar looked slightly embarrassed.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Like I said, he disappeared. And he definitely never told me of his intentions.”

“Wow, as if I never heard _that_ before.” Vereesa’s words were pure acid. Sylvanas was surprised — she’d never heard so much anger in her little sister’s voice. “Every time it’s the same story, Regent Lord. Funny how you always seem to look the other way when your subjects are plotting behind everyone’s backs.”

Lor’themar’s ears pinned back in anger and he bared his fangs slightly.

“Blightcaller is _not_ my subject,” he growled, “and I will not listen to anything a traitor like you has to say! Or did you forget the blood of our people that’s on your hands?”

“You wish to recount who spilled more blood?” Vereesa wasn’t backing down. In fact, she was getting even more riled up. “Oh, but wait, you never spill it yourself, do you? You prefer to let bombs and divine artifacts do all the dirty work for you! Isn’t that right, Theron?”

“You don’t…”

“Enough!” Sylvanas stepped in between her sister and her former second in command, so that they wouldn’t accidentally — or deliberately — kill each other. “What in _Belore’_ s name is wrong with you two?” She looked between them, not quite believing the level of animosity she was seeing. “We all knew each other for ages! We were _friends_! What _happened_?”

“She slaughtered our people!” snapped Theron.

“ _His_ people killed Rhonin!” shouted Vereesa, gripping her bow so tightly her knuckles went white.

“Not to mention he banned both of us from Silvermoon,” Alleria muttered under her breath.

Unfortunately, Sylvanas heard. She stilled and her eyes narrowed.

“ _What?_ ” she hissed, suddenly forgetting about trying to defuse the situation and looking at Lor’themar with an expression of an unbridled rage.

Centuries of serving under Sylvanas played their part, and Lord Theron shriveled under his former General’s gaze.

“I once allowed Alleria to visit Quel’Danas, and it almost cost us the Sunwell,” he tried to explain, lowering his voice. “And Vereesa—” he shot the youngest sister a dark look, which she returned in kind, “—she took up arms against her own people. Even if I did allow her presence in Silvermoon, she’d be killed on sight!”

“Were these _people_ members of the Horde?” Sylvanas growled. Lor’themar frowned while she continued, “And was the Horde by any chance using any underhanded tactics to win a war it started at the time?”

Lord Theron straightened.

“I see your sisters have already filled you head with their truths,” he muttered.

“Are they wrong? Please, enlighten me then, Regent Lord, what is _your_ truth.” When Lor’thermar didn’t say anything, Sylvanas spoke through her teeth. “Get out of my sight.”

Lord Theron paused, then turned around. Before he walked away, he glanced at Sylvanas over his shoulder and said, “I hope you’ll see things from our perspective soon. For your own sake, as well as our people’s.”

With that, he walked away.

Sylvanas briefly closed her eyes and slowly exhaled.

“Do we have _any_ friends left in Silvermoon?” she asked bitterly, turning to her sisters.

Vereesa had to think for a few seconds before answering, “Well, we still get along with Halduron.” Then her ears drooped a little. “Though things were tense between us for a time after the Purge.”

Before Sylvanas could say something, however, Lady Jaina called out from where she and the rest of the mages were standing.

“The wards are lowered and we are ready to begin,” she announced. “Please, take up your positions and ready your weapons. Regent Lord assures us that the exit point is safe, but it’s best we be prepared for any surprises.”

Sylvanas perked up and with a few discreet hand signs ordered her rangers to split into groups of three. Sylvanas herself remained with her sisters. Rangers fanned out before the spot where mages — Jaina, Modera, Kalec and Nozdormu — were about to open a portal, ready to shoot anything that might come at them from the other side.

However, as soon as the portal appeared before them, the elves saw another line of archers, mirroring their position. The Farstriders of Silvermoon, led by Ranger General Halduron Brightwing, apparently, had secured the exit point and were waiting for anything to come out of the portal.

When Halduron saw it was them, he signaled to his Farstriders to lower their weapons. Sylvanas did the same. Lor’themar, seeing that he was no longer in danger of getting into a crossfire, immediately stepped through. After a nod from Sylvanas, her rangers followed.

Soon, everyone, including the mages, were through and the portal winked out of existence. When that happened, Windrunners were approached by Ranger General Brightwing.

“Halduron,” Sylvanas greeted him, but before she could say anything else, she found herself wrapped in a bone-crushing hug.

“Looks like you’re getting a much warmer welcome than we did,” Alleria remarked from behind, although there was no malice in her words. When Halduron pulled away from Sylvanas, he greeted her with a ranger handshake and nodded to Vereesa.

“Do you want me to hug you too, Alleria?” The eldest Windrunner rolled her eyes at Halduron’s pretend threat and he grinned, turning to the rest of the arrivals. “ _Bal’a dash, belore’dorei_ ,” he spoke to the rangers. “ _Shala’finel aran’thalas_.”

_Greetings, children of the Sun. You journey is finished. Welcome home._

Sylvanas face softened with a small smile, similar to that of her rangers’. _Home_. They were home. Despite the wariness the restored quel’dorei felt toward their blood elf brethren — _the Horde_ , how could they have joined the Horde?! — they were still relieved to return to their beloved forests.

Sylvanas looked around and addressed her sisters. “Alleria, you said these lands were still plagued by the Scourge, but so far they look unchanged.”

Halduron, who was already greeting the mages and the dragons, turned back to Sylvanas, his face darkening.

“Just wait until we start walking toward the village,” he answered instead of Alleria. “Despite what you see here, the Ghostlands haven’t gotten their name for nothing.”

“But why did your mages open the portal here?” asked Lady Jaina, approaching the trio along with the rest of the mages. “I assumed we were going to be teleported straight to the village.”

Halduron grit his teeth at being addressed by the Butcher of Dalaran, but he still answered, “My scouts have reported some unusual Scourge movement in the area. We believed it was safer to set the exit point here, and then, after combining our forces, to move into the village. Speaking of which,” he motioned to his Farstriders and they brought four steeds toward the mages. “We have prepared mounts for you.”

“You are not going to ride with us?” Modera asked, climbing on top of the horse.

Halduron smiled smugly. “We’ll _walk_ with you.” At her confused expression, his grin widened. “Don’t worry. We’re not going to slow you down.”

Without elaborating further, he gestured again, and all of the rangers fell into a travel formation. Farstriders and Lord Theron stood at the head of the column, while mages took place in the middle, and Windrunners along with Sylvanas’ rangers protected the rear. Halduron was supposed to stand with his Regent Lord, but for now he remained behind as well.

As they all set out to the Windrunner village, Sylvanas walked next to him, her sisters trailing behind, and asked, “You’re not overly fond of Lady Proudmoore, I see.”

Halduron frowned and hummed before carefully saying, “Did anyone tell you about the Purge of Dalaran?”

“Vereesa told me what happened, though Lor’themar seems to have a different view on the whole… incident.” Halduron nodded and pursed his lips. Studying his expression, Sylvanas pressed, “You don’t agree with how the Silver Covenant handled the situation?”

“It’s… complicated.” When Sylvanas didn’t appear to be satisfied with this answer, he sighed. “I understand why Lady Proudmoore and Vereesa acted as they did. _Belore_ , if something like Theramore happened to me I… I don’t know what I’d do.” He shook his head. “But, Sylvanas, there were innocents there. Innocents who perished because of the crimes of a few traitors.”

“ _Innocents_ who knew about others’ foul deeds and decided to stay silent! They do not even deserve to be called ‘innocent’,” Vereesa growled from behind, clearly having heard their exchange.

Halduron whirled on her.

“And you are so certain that _everybody_ you had slain was complicit?” he demanded. “That every single Sunreaver you executed without trial knew about our agents’ plans?” When Vereesa opened her mouth to answer, he raised his hand, stopping her, and sighed heavily. “I did not mean to start that argument again. Like I said, I understand why you began the Purge… even though I doubt I’ll soon forgive it.” Then he turned back to Sylvanas. “That’s not the only tragedy that happened that day, though. Did you know that Lor’themar and Varian were discussing the possibility of our return to the Alliance? Do you have any idea how _close_ we were to finally leaving the Horde? And how your sister and Lady Proudmoore managed to send us straight back into its arms with one bad decision?”

Sylvanas’ shock quickly turned to anger. She glared at the back of Jaina’s head — the mages still rode a few dozen paces ahead of them. So during Sylvanas’ undeath Lady Jaina had managed to screw her people over _again_! However, before she could put her boiling feelings to words, Alleria calmly spoke,

“If Lor’themar truly wished for the sin’dorei to join the Alliance, why did he threaten these talks by working against the Alliance in Dalaran?” The question was valid, and Sylvanas’ hot rage quickly evaporated. Halduron also looked somewhat befuddled.

“What are you saying?” he asked glancing back at Alleria.

The eldest Windrunner shrugged.

“That, perhaps, it wasn’t our Regent Lord’s best decision, to send agents to a city led and defended by two people who hated the Horde more than anyone else on Azeroth… Unless, of course, he _wanted_ to provoke them and blame the Alliance for those failed talks.”

“It was _our people_ who aided Garrosh with the Divine Bell,” Vereesa quietly added. “And it was _our people_ who created the mana bomb for him. Our spies say Lor’themar even supported his attack on Theramore! Even Syl… even the Banshee opposed it.” Sylvanas startled at the sudden mention of her undead self and looked at Vereesa. Her sister, however, didn’t notice — she was glaring at Halduron. “After all of that, what makes you think that Lor’themar ever truly considered returning to the Alliance?”

Halduron looked defeated.

“I haven’t thought about it that way,” he admitted, sounding tired. “I never was very good at politics.”

Sylvanas wanted to add something to the conversation, but as she opened her mouth, they rode into a small grove.

Her mouth remained hanging open at the sight.

The marks of Scourge were _everywhere_. The land was almost barren, trees — withered and half dead. Even the sky she saw through the branches seemed duller than before.

“Well, there it is,” Halduron breathed heavily. “The Ghostlands in all their splendor.”

Sylvanas shook her head, pained by how her beloved forests had suffered. “So much has happened since I… died,” she muttered. “It is as if I ended up in a completely different world. Our people divided, our kingdom ravaged…”

“Well, perhaps, with the treaty between the Alliance and the Horde standing, our people won’t be divided much longer,” Halduron’s voice sounded genuinely hopeful. Then he looked at Sylvanas meaningfully. “After all, if we could get _you_ back, then, perhaps, the rest will also follow.”

With that, he nodded to the sisters and briskly strode ahead, where his Regent Lord had been throwing impatient glances at him.

Despite her old friend’s optimism, his earlier spat with Vereesa and their grim surroundings left Sylvanas feeling down. She kept glancing around, taking in every mark, every sign of the Scourge corruption.

Soon, however, Sylvanas’ wandering gaze fell upon a quartet of mages. Jaina, Kalec, Modera and Nozdormu rode a few dozen paces ahead of her. The path was narrow, so only two horses could pass at a time. Lady Proudmoore rode next to Kalec, the pair falling behind their respective elders.

The blue dragon was animatedly telling Jaina some story, while she nodded along. At some point he apparently said something funny, because Lady Proudmoore laughed freely and playfully swatted him on the shoulder.

Sylvanas frowned. While she thought that laugh was the prettiest sound she’d heard since her resurrection, she couldn’t quite enjoy it. Her gaze bore into Jaina’s hand that lingered on the damnable dragon’s arm, and then flickered to her face.

Suddenly a thought came to her, and she turned to her sisters.

“Isn’t Lady Jaina promised to either of you?”

Alleria laughed at that, amused, while Vereesa, clearly not having expected such question, let out a choking sound and looked at Sylvanas, her eyes wide.

“ _Belore_ , no! She’s just a very dear friend. Why would you even say that?”

Sylvanas shrugged. “Well, you seem awfully close to her, Little Moon. And I’m pretty sure she has an elven token hidden under her neckline.”

Alleria smirked.

“Oh, and you’ve been looking, haven’t you? At her _neckline_ ,” drawled the eldest sister.

Sylvanas scoffed, waving Alleria’s comment away.

“Please, sister.”

“What?” Alleria kept egging her on. “You never pass an opportunity to admire _any_ woman’s _neckline,_ and Lady Jaina is certainly…”

“…the last woman I would admire,” Sylvanas cut in sharply.

At that Alleria actually frowned. “That’s strange, you know. When you were… well… before you were restored, you two had a rather decent relationship.”

Sylvanas quirked an eyebrow, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes!” Vereesa piped in. “Out of all theAlliance leaders, she was the one you could always tolerate. You mocked Anduin, couldn’t stand me or Alleria, and don’t even get me started on king Graymane…” She huffed. “But Jaina? We could always count on you two getting along. I wonder what changed.”

“Well, you did mention I led the _Belore_ -forsaken Horde,” Sylvanas growled. Then her ears drooped and she added quietly. “Not to mention trying to kill you two.” She shook her head and straightened in her saddle. “Obviously, I had some questionable judgement at the time.”

The narrow path they followed ended, and they stepped into the clearing. From there they could see buildings on the edge of the Windrunner village. As they approached, Sylvanas’ heart clenched at the sight of the ramshackle, empty houses with dark holes instead of windows. Looking at what happened to her family’s land, she dreaded the moment they would see the Spire.

Vereesa opened her mouth to say something, when suddenly a movement near the buildings got Sylvanas’ attention. She raised her fist and whistled lowly. Elves — both her rangers and Halduron’s Farstriders — immediately stopped and readied their weapons. Mages, not used to elven military signs, kept going for a few seconds, but then realized that something was up and immediately turned their horses.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jaina, galloping toward them and stopping near Sylvanas.

The former Ranger General didn’t answer. Instead, she swept her eyes over the perimeter, noticing how with each second shadows became more and more alive.

Except _alive_ wasn’t the best word to describe it.

“The Scourge!” Halduron’s voice carried over their troops. Apparently, he also noticed undead lurking in the shadows. “Rangers, slay them before they reach us!”

As the archers drew their bows, an awful cacophony of screeching, cackling and gurgling filled the air. The Scourge noticed them as well. Ghouls appeared from the buildings, from the shadows, from under ground and, following their endless hunger, began running toward the group.

Sylvanas let an arrow loose. She didn’t look if it struck its target — it was nearly impossible not to hit anything in the tide of decaying flesh that was approaching them. Rangers were firing without stopping and mages furiously rained their spells, devastating the ranks of the undead, but Sylvanas with growing horror realized that, despite their best efforts, the tide of death just kept swelling and getting closer.

It was almost too much. Sylvanas froze for a second, trying to push away the memory of another hopeless battle and another undead army, but after a few moments she managed to pull herself together.

Running up to Halduron, she yelled in his ear, “We can’t defeat them like that! We have to fall back to the path!”

If the Scourge attacked them in a narrow place, it wouldn’t have mattered how many monsters came at them. Four mages could have held them at bay for a long time, and with the rangers’ help it would have been almost easy. But as they were, without the support of heavy infantry like spellbreakers or footmen, the undead would simply surround and crush them.

“We won’t get there in time!” Halduron’s face was pale — apparently, he’d also read the situation and saw that they were doomed. Still, he turned to the mages and cried. “We need to block their approach! Funnel them into one spot!”

Kalec, who happened to be closer to them than the rest, nodded and immediately began casting. Two walls of ice rose in the path of the Scourge, forcing ghouls to push through the gap between them.

It worked… for a few seconds. Not content with being herded like that, the undead began climbing over the walls. Kalec tried to grow them higher, but suddenly a loud roar rose above the sounds of battle, and the icy barrier on Sylvanas’ flank shook as if struck with a great force.

Another crash followed and cracks appeared in the wall. There was a second of silence, and then with a loud scrunch the barrier burst into tiny pieces.

Sylvanas eyes widened. The creature that emerged from behind the wall looked like it came out of nightmare — even more so than the rest of the Scourge. Almost three elven heights tall, unbelievably fat, ugly and disproportionate, it was sawn from the body parts of several people. In its heavy hand it held a trunk of a small tree that served the abomination as a club.

And this monster was charging straight at Sylvanas and Halduron.

Pushing her friend out of creature’s way, Sylvanas drew her bow. She knew that no matter how many arrows she fired at the monster she would never take it down in time.

 _I got my life back only to be killed by the Scourge again_. A small part of Sylvanas saw some irony in this. She kept loosing arrow after arrow, while the abomination was getting closer and closer…

Suddenly the world in front of her exploded into fire. Blinded by the flash, she raised a hand to shield her eyes. Then a shadow fell upon her. Certain that the monster had finally reached her, Sylvanas looked up again.

Before her, shielding the elf from the fire, stood a white horse with none other than Jaina Proudmoore on its back. The mage was facing the monstrosity that nearly crushed Sylvanas a second earlier. Her staff was raised, and her form was outlined by ethereal arcane glow that shone brighter than the inferno she unleashed on the approaching undead.

The abomination, thrown back by the fiery explosion, roared in pain while slowly succumbing to the flames. Most of the ghouls surrounding the monster also caught fire and began darting around in agony, spreading flames and preventing other undead from reaching the elves.

Having stalled their advance for the moment, Jaina turned to Sylvanas. The elf’s gaze was immediately drawn to her eyes, still glowing blue. Those eyes swept over the former General, making sure she was unharmed, and then met her own.

“Just don’t get in the way of my magic, and you’ll be safe,” the mage cockily repeated Sylvanas’ earlier quip, a corner of her lip lifting in a wry smile.

Sylvanas huffed, speechless, and before she managed to come up with a retort, the mage galloped away, raining fireballs on the remaining undead. The rest of the mages joined in, Modera and Kalec also switching to fire to help Jaina’s effort, while Nozdormu began creating small sandstorms to throw the ghouls back and keep them in a tight flock, where they became easy targets. And those undead that managed to escape the fire were easily dispatched by the rangers.

Soon it was over. As the last ghouls were felled by the elven arrows, Jaina summoned several water elementals, ordering them to quell the fires before they consumed the village and the forest around them.

Sylvanas stood, looking in awe at the mage. Jaina was magnificent, her silver braid with a golden streak waving behind her, her ocean-blue eyes shining in concentration and triumph, the incredible arcane power radiating off of her. Basking in that radiance as if it was shined upon her by Belore herself, Sylvanas fleetingly thought that, if she had someone like Jaina in her army thirteen years ago, Silvermoon would never fall...

Suddenly Sylvanas’ mood soured. She remembered, that thirteen years ago Jaina Proudmoore was at _his_ side, even if only briefly. Now, seeing how powerful the mage was, the former Ranger General knew for certain — Jaina could have stopped that madman before he succumbed to the darkness, before he even had the notion to march on Silvermoon.

But she didn’t. She walked away.

And in Sylvanas’ eyes that made her nearly as guilty as Arthas himself.

* * *

That same evening the group of the restored elves and mages had settled in a small camp near the village, and a month later the repairs for both the settlement and the Spire were in full swing. Elves, eager to move from the chilly tents of their temporary camp into the warmth and comfort of their houses, worked from dawn to dusk, nearly collapsing onto their cots in the evenings. The mages, having little to do after establishing the defensive perimeter of wards around the place, helped them with everything they could. All in all, the work was coming along nicely.

Initially, after assessing damage the Scourge has wrought on her ancestral home, Sylvanas announced that repairing the Spire was secondary to repairing the village. She wanted her people to be comfortable as fast as possible, even if it came at a price of her family’s residence. Her people, however, ignored their former General and put as much work into the Spire as they did in the village. With Vereesa’s and Alleria’s help and with Jaina enchanting instruments and putting local water elementals to work, the Spire soon became quite livable, if not yet homy.

One evening, right after having finished levitating necessary furniture onto the second floor, Jaina stood on the balcony in one of the bedrooms. As she tried to enjoy the sunset, she contemplated the last weeks’ events. Or, more accurately, contemplated her relationship with a certain former banshee.

Or, even more accurately, an absolute _disaster_ that was their relationship.

Every time Jaina and Sylvanas crossed paths, they managed to get into a fight with each other. It didn’t help that Sylvanas seemed hell bent on verbally harassing Jaina, nor did it help that Jaina was particularly sensitive to each and every one of the elf’s barbs. They _hurt_. They cut the mage to her very soul. After those spats even the familiar weight of her token, that usually brought no small amount of comfort to the mage, began feeling alien, suffocating.

Sylvanas Windrunner _hated_ her. A few years ago, that thought wouldn’t have wounded Jaina so. They used to be enemies after all. But after everything they’ve been through in the last wars, after everything they’ve shared as lovers, their current situation seemed unbearable to Jaina.

And the worst part of it was, she had no idea how to make it better.

Jaina’s musings were cut short when she became aware of Vereesa approaching her from behind. The elf stopped next to the mage and leaned onto the railing.

“Enjoying the view?” she asked, squinting at the setting sun that bathed the landscape in soft, reddish colors.

Jaina nodded. “Yes. These lands are beautiful, even with everything that’s happened to them.” She paused and then added. “It must have been a joy to grow up here.”

Vereesa hummed. “It’s not the same as it was. It never will be. But it’s still home.” She cocked her head to the side and looked at the mage. “Thanks for all the help, by the way. I don’t think we’d finish the repairs so soon without you.”

Jaina smiled. “You are welcome. It was refreshing to do something creative with my magic for a change.”

“And you’ve done wonderfully,” Vereesa assured her. Then, after a short pause, the elf nonchalantly said, “By the way, your room is just next to mine. You might want to start settling in.”

Jaina looked at her and arched her eyebrow. “My room?”

Vereesa grinned. “Of course. You didn’t think we’d let you stay in that abysmal camp when there was an alternative, did you?”

Jaina hesitated. While she appreciated the offer, she had a good reason to stay away from Windrunners, if possible. “The village is coming along quite nicely.” She said carefully. “I figured I should stay there. Might even help them with the repairs as well.”

“You’re staying with us,” Vereesa spoke with an air of finality. “Alleria and I insist. Besides, you had reasons for coming here, did you not? Something about arcane addiction? You’ll have much more space for your work if you stay here.”

Jaina couldn’t tell Vereesa that her real reason to come here had little to do with the elves’ addiction, but she decided to be at least partially honest.

“I doubt Sylvanas will like it very much,” she said in a morose tone, admitting to why she didn’t really want to stay.

Vereesa’s ears drooped slightly.

“I truly don’t get it,” she spoke quietly. “Before the ritual, you and Sylvanas were always cordial. You even tried to push me and Alleria to make peace with the Banshee. Yet now that she’s back, all you do is snipe and curse at each other.”

“We can’t be that bad…” said Jaina almost airily, knowing full well that they _were_ that bad. And worse.

Vereesa looked at her, clearly unimpressed. “Jaina, I’ve heard some of your spats. Just yesterday you’ve threatened to pull her… her _ladyparts_ over her ears.”

Ranger General of Silver Covenant blushed slightly after saying that. Jaina laughed at her friend’s discomfort, remembering with bitter satisfaction how Sylvanas had also turned crimson yesterday.

“That’s not the exact word I used,” she teased, and Vereesa’s blush intensified.

“I’m not repeating what you really said,” the elf answered quickly. “Seriously, no lady should utter such words, _Lady_ Jaina.”

“No, but Lord Admiral might,” Jaina answered cheekily, secretly hoping that Vereesa already forgot what they were talking about. “Can’t forget the sailors’ language while I’m away from home, can I?”

Vereesa scoffed and rolled her eyes softly, but then her expression changed into one of concern, completely dashing Jaina’s earlier hope.

“Look, I don’t know why you to can’t stand each other anymore, and I understand that Sylvanas can be a bit of an ass…”

“Just a bit?” Jaina quipped, but Vereesa ignored her and continued.

“… But I still think that you should stay.”

The mage sighed. “Vereesa, I…”

Suddenly someone cleared a throat behind them.

Vereesa and Jaina both turned around and saw Sylvanas standing in the doorway. Jaina narrowed her eyes at the elf, wondering how long she stood there. ~~~~

“I am sorry to interrupt,” Sylvanas began, briefly nodding to Jaina and then fixing her gaze on Vereesa, “but one of your Silver Covenant rangers has just arrived from Dalaran via portal. He claims to have some urgent message for you.”

Vereesa frowned worriedly, cast an apologetic glance at Jaina and briskly walked away.

When she left, Sylvanas hesitated for a second, but then came closer to Jaina and, taking Vereesa’s place, leaned onto the porch next to her.

“She’s right, you know,” began the elf after a few seconds of silence. “You should stay in the Spire.”

Jaina sent her a sideways glance and asked, “How much did you hear?”

The elf’s mouth twitched, as if she was suppressing a smile.

“Enough to hear you calling me an ass.”

The mage sighed. “Vereesa called you an ass. I simply didn’t refute her statement.” When Sylvanas didn’t answer, she also muttered, “And I really should set up some wards against that elven hearing of yours.” Sylvanas looked positively smug at that, and, seeing her wry smile, Jaina felt a familiar pang in her chest. Suddenly emboldened, she turned to Sylvanas fully and crossed her arms. “Since you’ve apparently heard what Vereesa and I talked about, then perhaps you can answer her question. You’ve been hostile toward me from the very beginning. Why?”

The smile immediately disappeared from Sylvanas face and she tensed.

“Well, as you and Vereesa have astutely noticed, I can be an ass sometimes,” she said in a clipped tone. “That should be a good enough explanation for you.”

She suddenly turned to leave. However, as soon as the elf tried to step away, Jaina caught her arm.

“No,” said the mage. She’d had enough of their fighting, and desperately wanted to set things right, but she had next to no idea as to where to start. “Tell me the real reason. What is going on?”

Sylvanas set her jaw. “Nothing.” When Jaina just kept glaring at her, she tugged her arm slightly. “Lady Jaina, please, let go, before we start another fight and upset my sister even more.”

The mage refused to budge. “No. Not before you tell me what’s wrong. What did I ever do to you, Sylvanas?”

Sylvanas heard the question, and something snapped within her. Her eyes narrowed and she yanked her arm free.

“It’s not what you _did_ , it’s what you _didn’t_ do!” she hissed. Jaina’s eyes widened in surprise when Sylvanas stepped closer to her, her fists clenched at her sides. “You were there, with _him_. You saw, what he was doing, you saw, what he was about to become! And yet you didn’t stop him. They call you the most powerful mage in all of Azeroth, yet instead of standing up to him, you just _walked away_.”

Sylvanas face — eyes blazing, fangs bared — was in mere inches from Jaina’s. The elf expected the mage to object, to defend herself. Jaina could tell Sylvanas that she wasn’t nearly so powerful back then. Or that she couldn’t really know where this road would lead Arthas — nobody could. Or that she had to lead her people to Kalimdor — gods alone know what would happen to Azeroth if she didn’t. Those were the things everyone — including Sylvanas’ sisters — told the elf.

Yet Jaina simply regarded her calmly, understanding filling her eyes.

“And I carry this guilt with me every day,” she finally spoke, her voice quiet, barely audible even for an elf.

Still, Sylvanas heard her, and her anger was immediately extinguished. Her shoulders and ears slumped slightly, as she searched Jaina’s face and saw nothing there but honesty and raw emotion. She didn’t know what to say to that. Ever since she woke up in that dragon temple, she saw Jaina as a convenient outlet, as someone she could blame for the horrors that befell her and her people. Yet now, looking at the mage, all she saw was another person who suffered at Arthas’ hands.

And, perhaps, _her_ wounds could not be cured by the bronze dragons’ magic.

After a long moment of silence, Jaina lowered her gaze. As Sylvanas stood there, the mage brushed past her and walked to the doorway. There she hesitated and turned around.

“I knew you as the Banshee Queen, you know,” the mage began quietly, placing her hand on the doorframe, as if to steady herself. Sylvanas whirled around, once again boring her eyes into Jaina, yet the mage kept looking at the floor. “She was angry as well. Some even believed that there was nothing left in her but that anger.” She shook her head before continuing. “She hated the Scourge, hated Arthas, hated everything he did to her… to you… and to your people.” She finally lifted her head and looked Sylvanas straight in the eye. “Yet, despite all her faults, despite all her anger and despite how monstrous everyone thought she was, not once did she blame me for all that happened.” She swallowed and added in a low whisper. “She never was so cruel.”

With that Jaina stepped through the door, leaving stunned Sylvanas alone on the balcony.

* * *

Surprisingly, things had actually become better between them after that.

The conversation on the balcony, however unpleasant it was for both of them, allowed the mage and the former Ranger General to finally reach some sort of understanding. After a few days Sylvanas even apologized for her behavior, which shocked Jaina — she never knew old Sylvanas to apologize for _anything_. Jaina, in turn, realized that she needed to be more patient with the elf. She vowed to allow Sylvanas time to get to know her again, to let these new impressions banish the shadow that Arthas still threw upon her.

Things were getting better. Slowly, but they were warming up to each other.

However, there were others who warmed up to Jaina much faster than Sylvanas did. Her rangers had taken to the mage since the very beginning, which surprised Jaina. Before, she believed that Dark Rangers’ disposition toward her was dictated by her relationship with their Dark Lady. It was proven to be completely false, however, when restored rangers began offering her their help, flirting with her and even visiting for a simple banter.

Those visits became much more frequent after Jaina, Modera and former Aspects Nozdormu and Kalec began to work on the elves’ arcane addiction.

One day Modera asked Jaina to measure the residual arcane signatures on as many elves as she could find — they needed to gather vast statistics to correct their theories. Jaina in turn decided that, instead of hunting for elves, she’d better invite them to come to her. And that was why one evening the sitting room — or, rather, an entire hall — of the Windrunner Spire was filled with elves. They were everywhere — lounging in chairs and sofas, sitting on the window sills, draping themselves over the railings and stairs… Of course, that gathering quickly turned into a circus.

Sylvanas was there as well — she decided to make sure her rangers would be on their best behavior. Her presence, however, didn’t help all that much, so, after the gaggle of elves ignored her admonishments several times, she ended up sulking in a corner. She was also shooting daggers with her eyes at Anya Eversong, who’d decided to take it upon herself and distract Jaina from her work.

And the best possible distraction in the elves’ eyes was, of course, flirting.

Usually, Jaina was a good sport about such things. But that day, after spending hours among loud and undisciplined — unless they were on patrol, which they weren’t now, — elves, she felt her head beginning to hurt, and she simply wanted to finish measurements as quickly as possible.

She did, however, notice how displeased Sylvanas was with the attention she was receiving from Anya, which was why the mage didn’t do much to put a stop to the ranger’s antics.

Finally, at some point, Sylvanas had had enough.

“Anya, leave our guest alone. Don’t you see? She’s already taken.” Sylvanas meaningfully looked at the chain adorning Jaina’s neck.

That made Jaina freeze for a moment. So Sylvanas had noticed she wore the token! And, just as Jaina had feared, the elf deduced that she was unapproachable.

While the mage contemplated if she should have taken the necklace off, as she had originally suggested to the Banshee, Anya looked up at Sylvanas from where she was lounging on a sofa.

“Don’t be such a spoilsport, Sylvanas,” the Ranger Captain drawled. “Besides, I’m certain you only say that so that you can keep Lady Proudmoore for yourself.”

While Sylvanas hissed a string of Thalassian curses at her Ranger Captain, Jaina tried to school her expression.

Thankfully, nobody noticed how it faltered for a second.

Anya, however, was completely unperturbed by Sylvanas’ tongue-lashing. Looking back at Jaina, she smiled slyly and continued in the same lazy tone, “Sylvanas does raise an excellent point, Lady Proudmoore. Who’s the lucky elf?”

“That’s none of your business, Anya,” Jaina replied evenly, never looking up from the notes she was taking. Her tone was clearly suggesting Anya should drop this particular topic, but it didn’t stop the ranger.

“Is it one of the kaldorei?”

The mage sighed. “No.”

“Hmm. One of Vereesa’s rangers then?”

“Anya,” Lady Jaina finally glared at her, her voice clearly a warning. Her refusal to answer, however, only made Anya’s eyes sparkle brighter with mischief and curiosity.

“Oooh? I’m close, right? Is it Vereesa herself, maybe?”

At that Jaina simply laughed and rubbed her eyes tiredly, finally giving up on the hope of making any more progress today. “Tides, no. It’s definitely not Vereesa, that much I can tell you.”

That got Sylvanas’ attention. She crossed her arms, smirk tugging at her lips, and asked, “Why not? Is my sister not good enough for you, Lady Proudmoore?”

Jaina didn’t take the bait. She met the elf’s gaze and smiled sadly. “She is. She would be a wonderful partner for anyone, but, alas, _I_ could never be good enough for her.”

Sylvanas raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

Jaina’s smile became even sadder.

“Because I’m not Rhonin.”

Sylvanas’ ears lowered, as did her arms. She suddenly looked… not chastised, no, but as if she regretted steering their conversation into this direction. Thankfully, Anya saved her, immediately returning it onto a more lighthearted track.

“Well, that’s one less contender for you heart. Works for me,” she drawled, waggling her eyebrows at Jaina. Sylvanas scoffed, rolling her eyes, and Jaina couldn’t help but think she looked a bit more than simply displeased now. In fact, she looked almost… jealous. The mage could only wonder if it was a wishful thinking on her part or not.

She decided to check.

“Why, Anya,” she said in a similar flirtatious tone, “are you afraid of a little competition?”

The ranger let out a delighted laugh. “Not at all, but we, Farstriders, do prefer to know our odds beforehand. And I can’t help but wonder, what kind of elf had managed to tie you, our good Lady Proudmoore, to himself.”

To that Jaina actually could give an answer.

“One of a kind,” she said, slightly smirking at the knowing look on Anya’s face. However, all the mirth left Jaina almost immediately when she remembered that the person she loved was gone, wiped from existence and would most likely never return to her…

Anya hummed, her observant eyes never leaving Jaina’s face. “And yet, he’s not here, and every time you touch your token, you look sad,” she murmured. “Why is that? Trouble in paradise?”

“Anya!” Kalira, who was sitting on an armrest next to the Captain, hissed, swatting her friend’s shoulder, and then threw an apologetic glance at Jaina.

The mage waved her hand.

“It’s alright.” She slowly answered, thinking how to best word her next sentence. While she spoke, she was acutely aware that every ranger, including Sylvanas, was now looking at her. It took all of Jaina’s willpower not to look back. “And it was nothing like that, Anya. The… circumstances of our lives dictated that me and my love couldn’t be together anymore. And now that she was torn away from me, I…”

Anya’s ears suddenly wilted, she sat up straighter, and, before Jaina could finish, she quickly spoke, “Lady Jaina, I apologize. I didn’t realize your significant other was gone. I’m so sorry if I offended you with my words…”

“Oh, no. No…” Jaina smiled sadly, only now realizing how her last sentence could be interpreted. “She’s alive.” Then she added under her breath, “ _In a sense_.”

Unfortunately, elven ears around her heard this remark.

“Well, she can’t be _undead_ , since all of us are here,” chuckled Velonara. This time, however, Jaina didn’t manage to catch herself in time, and all of the rangers saw the whirlwind of emotions flickering over her face. Realization dawned on Velonara. “ _Anar’alah Belore_ … _Was_ it one of us?”

As everyone stared at her, Jaina felt a cold fear at being called out creeping up, and her mind scrambled to come up with a plausible lie. She knew she should just deny everything right here and now, but for some reason she couldn’t force the words out of her mouth, and by the time she managed to get a grip it was too late.

Jaina sighed. Since her silence was already speaking for itself, she decided not to say anything at all. She looked at the shocked expressions of elves around her and, steeling herself, glanced at Sylvanas. She expected to see her frowning, angry, maybe even disgusted… But instead, all she saw was a surprise on her face.

“Weren’t…” Sylvanas began, then stumbled over her own words and started anew. “Weren’t the undead part of the Horde all this time? Did you… How did it even happen?”

Before Jaina could bitterly wonder if it’s another “bedding monsters” comment, Kalira interrupted them.

“Who cares?” she fiercely told Sylvanas and then turned to Jaina, her eyes pleading. “Lady Jaina… If it _is_ true, then you have to tell us. You have to tell us who it was!”

The rest murmured in agreement, but fell silent when Jaina shook her head.

“I can’t,” she said. Now that the cat was out of the bag, she decided to be as honest with them as she could without revealing more. “By telling my beloved of our past, I would place many expectations on her. An obligation to love someone she might not even consider…” her voice nearly broke and she collected herself. “No,” she firmly finished. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Yet, it seemed, Sylvanas’ rangers didn’t agree with her.

“It’s hardly a burden to love you, Lady Jaina,” Kalira quietly offered, blushing lightly to the tips of her ears when the mage smiled at her.

“Still, my love and I agreed it’s best to let us reunite naturally, without forcing these events,” Jaina firmly stated and then chanced another glance at Sylvanas. Former Ranger General was staring at her with a confused expression on her face, her ears twitching slightly, as if she was solving a particularly complicated problem in her head. Alas, there was nothing in her countenance that suggested Sylvanas even for a second thought that _she_ was the ranger Jaina was talking about.

The mage internally sighed. Part of her foolishly hoped that right now Sylvanas would magically realize the truth, sparing Jaina more waiting and anguish. However, as she thought about it some more, she decided it was for the best — after all, her current relationship with the elf was still far from loving, and there was no need to complicate it even further. Saddened by the thought, Jaina tore her gaze from Sylvanas and began removing her arcane instruments from the table.

However, while the mage was looking at the former General, she didn’t notice other elves’ conspiratorial glances and ear movement. Something in her last admission caught their attention, and they immediately saw an opportunity.

“Lady Jaina,” slowly began Anya, “so, you’re saying, if your beloved began courting you again… you would reciprocate?”

Having collected everything, Jaina stood up. She cast the last tired look at the rangers and answered.

“If.”

Then she left. Everyone remained silent while she ascended the stairs and well after that. Only when they heard the distant sound of a closing door did rangers dare to speak again.

“Well?” Anya’s drawl ended the silence. “Are we going to lay some ground rules, or is it going to be every woman for herself?”

“Stop making it sound like a competition,” Velonara chastised her, pinching a tip of her friend’s ear.

“And you think it isn’t?” Anya asked innocently. “Just look at the _prize_ …”

Sylvanas turned to her rangers, quirking an eyebrow. “What in _Belore’s_ name are you two talking about?”

Anya shrugged. “You’ve heard what Lady Jaina said. She’s waiting for her Dark Ranger to swoop her off her feet, and it could be any one of us.” Ranger Captain gazed the way Jaina went and licked her lips thoughtfully. “It would be wrong of us to leave a woman like that wanting.”

Sylvanas’ eyes widened and her ears stood up almost vertically.

“So, what, you’re planning to _court_ her now?” the former Ranger General asked, incredulous.

“And you aren’t?” Kalira asked quietly, lifting her eyes from her hands that she’d been nervously wringing.

Sylvanas scoffed. “Of course not. This is ridiculous.” She then looked at the rest of her rangers. Apparently, Anya, Kalira and Velonara weren’t alone in their madness — the rest seemed to agree with them.

Anya shrugged again and stood up. “Well, your loss.” She looked around and winked at her friends. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are preparations to be made. I have a mage to woo, after all.”

Sylvanas simply shook her head. At the same time her rangers perked up and began dispersing. Seeing them so dreamy, hopeful and playful should have been a good thing, despite the absurdity of the situation, but for some reason Sylvanas felt a knot forming in her stomach. She frowned. Somehow the thought of others courting Jaina made her very displeased.

Deep in thought, she ascended the stairs. After a few moments she stopped in front of a door, and with a start realized that her feet brought her to Lady Jaina’s room.

After a second of hesitation, she knocked. Her ears twitched, catching a barely audible “come in”, and the elf opened the door and stepped through. As she glanced around the room, she saw that Lady Jaina wasn’t there, but the curtain was moving slightly, indicating that the door to the balcony was opened.

Sylvanas moved, pulled the curtain to the side and finally saw Jaina. The mage stood with her back turned, leaning onto the railing and staring far in the distance.

“So that’s the real reason why you’re here?” Sylvanas quietly asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms on her chest. “You’re waiting for your beloved.”

The mage didn’t answer immediately. In fact, she didn’t even give any sign that she heard Sylvanas. But after a few seconds of silence, the elf heard a soft, “Yes.”

“But… why?” Sylvanas almost immediately blurted out. Her confusion was so apparent in her tone, that the mage turned her head to look at the elf.

“What do you mean?”

“That person… the one you loved… she is gone.” Sylvanas tried to speak as softly as she could. She understood that the subject was very delicate, and she didn’t want to hurt Jaina with her words. “Whoever they were before was wiped out along with their memories... At least, that’s the way they told us it is.” She paused, suddenly concerned. “Actually, now I have to ask… Is your Ranger the same as she was in undeath? Is any of us, truly?”

For a long time Jaina said nothing. When Sylvanas thought she was not going to get her answer, the mage finally spoke.

“Yes… And no. I don’t know.” She paused for a moment, worrying her lip with her teeth, and then continued. “I see my beloved in her living self every day. Her bravery, her stubbornness… her cheek.” She exhaled a soft laugh and closed her eyes. “Yet, at the same time, she is so different. And I don’t even know...” she trailed off and frowned, as if she almost let slip something she didn’t really want to share.

“Well, there you go.” Sylvanas walked closer and leaned onto the railing next to the mage. “Despite the similarities, the person she was is no more. Even if you do come together again, she will be someone different, and it will be a completely new relationship. You should let her old self go.”

Jaina scoffed. “Some people are very difficult to forget, Sylvanas.”

“Yet, she agreed to forget you, didn’t she?” the elf challenged, making Jaina frown and glare at her.

“And what was she supposed to do?” the mage demanded. “To refuse an offer of life for me? To hold on to the existence she loathed?” She shook her head. “No. I would never ask this of her.”

Sylvanas wasn’t convinced. “But she could at least write about you in her letter,” she said. “Like the one you passed on to me, remember? Every ranger did that, and none knew they were in a relationship with you.”

Sylvanas herself read that letter only recently and found it rather uninformative. Sure, there were some details to her past deeds that nobody but the Banshee could know, and there was also a list of people and reasons why she should or shouldn’t trust them, which, surprisingly, correlated very well with what she herself had managed to figure out from her sisters’ stories. What she found strange, however, was that there was no mention of Lady Jaina. None at all. All of the Alliance leaders were there, except for her.

As Sylvanas looked at Jaina again, she realized that her words must have deeply wounded the mage, because the next moment she whirled on the elf and peered at her angrily.

“I asked her not to write about us.”

“Well…” Sylvanas tried to say something, but Jaina cut her off sharply.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” she asked, her voice trembling from anger, “by insinuating that the woman I love most dearly didn’t love me back?”

Sylvanas frowned. She didn’t want or expect such a reaction.

“That’s not what I…” she began, but then changed her mind and said, “Lady Jaina, forgive me if I offended you, but I’m only telling you this out of kindness.”

“Kindness?” Jaina let out a harsh laugh. “Yes, because you’ve been so _kind_ to me ever since you became alive again.” Then the mage closed her eyes shut, clenched her fists and took a deep breath. After a short moment she exhaled and said, “Lady Windrunner, we’ve had a rather cordial relationship this last week, and I’d like for it to remain that way. So, unless there is something important that we need to discuss, please, leave, before either of us says something we’re going to regret.”

“Lady Jaina…” Sylvanas tried again, but trailed off at seeing the mage’s stern expression.

“Please, leave,” Jaina repeated in a level tone.

Sylvanas pursed her lips, unhappy with how the conversation ended. Still, she decided not to escalate and instead gave Jaina a shallow bow, turned on her heels and left.

Fuming silently, she strode though the halls of the Spire, not quite seeing where she was going. Thus, she quickly ran into Vereesa, nearly knocking her little sister off her feet.

“Whoa!” Vereesa grabbed Sylvanas’ shoulder to steady herself. “Easy!”

“Sorry,” Sylvanas looked around and saw that she ended up in the breakfast lounge of the Spire. She grumbled and tried to walk around her sister, but then felt a pressure on her arm.

Vereesa placed her hand there, her gaze searching Sylvanas’ face.

“Sylvanas? Is everything okay?”

Sylvanas opened her mouth, preparing to lie and brush her sister off, when something stopped her.

“Why didn’t you find another partner after Rhonin died?” she suddenly blurted.

Vereesa’s eyes bulged. “That’s… an unexpected question,” she muttered, frowning.

Sylvanas sighed and sat on the nearest couch, taking Vereesa’s hand and gently pulling the youngest sister down with her.

“It’s just… He’s been gone for some time now,” she began quietly, wondering if this conversation will end just like the one with Jaina. “And there are plenty of people who would be honored to try and make you happy, yet you refuse to let go of your late husband…” She trailed off.

Vereesa looked at her hands, biting her lip. For a few seconds it looked like she wasn’t even there. Sylvanas was painfully reminded of how Jaina looked just before their conversation.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Sylvanas,” Vereesa finally said. “Except that… some people are very difficult to forget.”

Sylvanas couldn’t help herself. She snorted.

“Yes, I was told _that_ already,” she grumbled.

Vereesa looked up at her curiously and squeezed her hand.

“By whom? What even brought this on?”

Sylvanas sighed.

“I spoke with Lady Jaina,” she admitted, “I don’t even know why I went to her, but… I tried to tell her to move on from her Dark Ranger, and that conversation didn’t go exactly as planned…”

“Wait,” Vereesa raised her hand, stopping Sylvanas. “What Dark Ranger?”

“The one whose token she’s bearing, of course.”

“ _What?!_ ”

Vereesa looked so shocked, that Sylvanas paused. “I take it you didn’t know.”

“No! That’s… I… It can’t be! How did you find out?” Vereesa demanded, clearly aghast at the revelation.

“She let it slip while talking to my rangers.” Then Sylvanas made face. “I’m pretty sure they took it as an invitation to pursue her.”

“I can’t believe it!” Vereesa stood up and began angrily pacing the room. “I always assumed she was seeing one of _my_ rangers or some kaldorei sentinel! She was so secretive about it, I thought she simply didn’t want me or Tyrande to treat her chosen differently because of their relationship! _Anar’alah,_ what was she _thinking_?!”

Sylvanas shrugged. “Well, it makes sense that she didn’t want anyone to know. She was seeing an enemy, after all. The Horde could have exploited it.”

“True, but so could we!” Vereesa shot back and then stopped, furrowing her brow. “Actually, I think now I know how Jaina learned about the assault on Lordaeron. And how she warned Tyrande about the attack on Teldrassil…”

Sylvanas laughed without mirth. “So one of my rangers was also a traitor? Wonderful.”

Having expended some of her nervous energy, Vereesa sat again. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me,” she murmured sadly.

Sylvanas pulled her sister into a loose hug. “If it makes you feel any better, Jaina is not telling her ranger about their past affair either,” she said. “Or anyone else for that matter. In fact, some of my fools have decided to woo her. Just in case.”

Vereesa looked at her worriedly.

“And you’re not going to stop them?”

Sylvanas shook her head. “No. Why should I? They’ll approach her once and she’ll turn them down — or not, whatever our lady fancies.” She shrugged. “It’ll be over in a day or two, I’m sure.”

* * *

Her rangers have gone mad. That was the only possible explanation to what Sylvanas was seeing in these past days.

It started out almost innocently — they showered Jaina with compliments, brought her gifts from their hunts, tried to dazzle her with grand gestures in the best traditions of quel’dorei courting. All of their efforts and offers, however, were gently turned down by an amused mage.

But that didn’t deter anyone. Soon, Jaina couldn’t take a step out of her room without being immediately approached by a ranger — or half a dozen of them. They would go out of their way to be near her, to be the first to offer the mage their help. What started out as a friendly rivalry between several uppity peacocks, soon turned into heated hissing matches between lynxes. Once, a fight even broke out between Clea and Alina. Thankfully, they were quickly separated by Alleria, who angrily dragged both rangers outside the Spire by their ears and forbade them to get closer until they learned to behave themselves.

Sylvanas didn’t expect to see them until the next millennium or so.

Still, as their leader, Sylvanas decided she needed to address the situation. One day, she ordered everyone to gather in the village and addressed her troops.

“Rangers, this has gotten out of hand,” she declared. “All of you must stop.”

“What are you talking about, General?” Velonara — the most responsible of the lot — asked, genuinely confused.

“I’m talking about your mad quest for Lady Jaina’s affection. It’s disrupting her work, as well as everyone’s routines. This must end now.” Sylvanas glared at the gathered elves, making sure her words stuck.

Unfortunately, they didn’t. Anya even had the audacity to laugh.

“Oh, come on, Sylvanas. Just admit that you want in on the competition,” the elf drawled, making Sylvanas frown. “Or is it some sort of tactic to get rid of other contesters?” The Ranger Captain waggled her finger at their General then. “You know this won’t work.”

 _Don’t be absurd!_ Sylvanas wanted to say, but instead her ears pinned to her skull and she growled, “Lady Jaina is not a prize to be won.”

To her surprise, Anya’s playfulness evaporated in a second.

“I’m not saying that she is,” the elf spoke seriously. “Look, the last word is hers, there’s no denying that. Jaina alone will decide if she wants to be with any one of us. But… you’ve seen her, Sylvanas. Can you really blame us for trying and hoping?”

Sylvanas took a deep breath, calming herself.

“No, but this is getting ridiculous. And she doesn’t even answer to any of your advances! When are you going to finally let it go?”

“Why? Why should we? And what does it matter to you?” Anya asked, exasperated. Suddenly, a thought came to her mind, and she looked at her General curiously. “Sylvanas… Do you think _you’re_ the one who gave her that token?”

“What? No!” Sylvanas protested. She really hadn’t thought about it — after all, they thought that Jaina’s beloved was a Dark _Ranger_ , not _the Dark_ _Lady_. “And it doesn’t matter! None of what _was_ matters, because none of us remember that time! We don’t remember _her_.”

Something tugged in her chest as she said that. Until this moment, she never once regretted not remembering her undead life. She believed it to be an endless torment, even though she knew by now that some of the Forsaken had managed to find their happiness, while others even refused to become alive again. That made Sylvanas wonder if there were things in her undeath worth remembering.

“We can create new ones,” Kalira spoke up, quietly but firmly. Sylvanas felt frustrated at that — even the shyest of her rangers had become part of this absurd circus.

As Sylvanas opened her mouth to start another tirade, Velonara cut in again.

“Look, General, we understand your concerns. And you have a point. We’ll make sure our personal lives don’t interfere with our duties. That was unbecoming of us as your rangers, and we’ll do better. Right, everyone?” She looked around, and the rest of the elves nodded readily, murmuring their ‘aye’s’ and ‘yes’es’. Velonara continued. “And we understand that Lady Jaina’s work is also important, so we’ll try and give her more space from now on.”

This time there were far less nods and agreement in the murmurs, but after Velonara and Sylvanas glared at them, everyone reluctantly agreed to that as well.

“Very well,” Sylvanas sighed. “That’s all I ask.”

Of course, it wasn’t at all what she asked. Alas, she couldn’t really forbid them to pursue Lady Jaina, or anyone else for that matter. Well, not without staking her claim on the mage first.

And that thought was _ridiculous_.

* * *

The next night Sylvanas had the strangest dream.

In it, she saw Jaina, but the mage was not alone. Before her stood a dark, hooded figure, unmistakably elven, but with ashen-grey, cold skin. The creature had its back turned to Sylvanas, and its attention was fully on Jaina.

The figure would reach for the mage, and Jaina would willingly take its hand. The figure would pull her in, and they would kiss, hungrily, the undead elf’s hands roaming over the mage’s body, and Jaina would answer her touches by the soft sighs and moans.

Sylvanas tried to run in the dream, but found that she couldn’t move. She tried to reach for Jaina, to pull the undead creature away from her, but she had no hands. She could only watch, helplessly, as this stranger’s touches and kisses became bolder… and lower...

In her last attempt to do at least something, Sylvanas cried out, hoping Jaina would hear her and snap out of whatever spell this monster had cast upon her.

But Jaina didn’t hear her. Instead, the undead elf turned.

Sylvanas saw the glowing red eyes and sharp, glistening fangs on a cruel, pale face.

 _Her_ face.

She gasped… and woke up, drenched in sweat, her sheets twisted in her fists. As the elf stared at the ceiling, trying to get her breathing under control, she tried to figure out one thing.

What in _Belore’s_ name did all of it mean?


	3. New Love, Old Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvanas and Jaina grow closer... before the disaster strikes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta-read, sorry for any and all mistakes. As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated

Most days Jaina’s morning routine led her to a small balcony near a dining room on the second floor, where she ate her breakfast in quiet solitude, enjoying pleasant warmth of the morning sun and gentle rustle of the nearby forest.

On some days she was joined by Vereesa, and on even rarer occasions by Alleria. Sylvanas was never there — she woke up with the first rays of the sun, and by the time Jaina forced herself out of the bed, former Ranger General would have gone on patrol, or started training her rangers, or would go check up on the village. Jaina thought it was for the best. While her relationship with Sylvanas improved drastically after the elf let go of her disdain toward Jaina’s connection to Arthas, things were still somewhat tense between them. Especially after the mage had inadvertently revealed her secret. Jaina couldn’t tell if Sylvanas was displeased with Jaina herself or with rangers’ somewhat overzealous — although undeniably cute and enthusiastic — response. One thing was certain, however, — she _was_ displeased. And whatever the reason, Jaina couldn’t help but agree with her — after all, she was getting a bit tired of all the attention.

And that was why she enjoyed her solitary morning feasts so much. Despite that, however, she was never opposed to a friendly — and _platonic_ — company, which was why one morning she was delighted to find Alleria and Vereesa both waiting for her on the balcony, their usual breakfast spread and tea already prepared.

As she conversed with Alleria, asking the elf about her recent visit to Stormwind, Jaina noticed that Vereesa was unusually quiet. Quiet, and staring at her with hard eyes.

“Is everything alright, Vereesa?” the mage finally asked, turning to face her. The elf didn’t answer, she just narrowed her eyes and kept sipping her tea. “Vereesa?”

“I’m mad at you,” she announced over the cup, still drilling Jaina with her gaze. If not for the childish pouting, her tone could be considered harsh.

Jaina’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “What? Why?” When Vereesa didn’t answer again, the mage sighed. “Do you want me to guess?”

Vereesa loudly placed her cup on the table, nearly splashing the tea around and earning an admonishing glare from Alleria.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

When nothing else followed, Jaina prodded her, “About?..”

“About this!” Vereesa jabbed her index finger at the mage, pointing at Jaina’s neck. Jaina raised her hand, and when her fingers brushed the chain of Sylvanas’ token, comprehension dawned.

 _Does she know about me and Sylvanas?_ “Vereesa, I…”

“You know, it was fine when you didn’t want to tell me who’s courting you,” Vereesa went on. Apparently, the silent treatment was over, and the rant began. “I assumed it was one of my rangers, or a kaldorei sentinel. At worst I thought it could be some sin’dorei and you didn’t want for a diplomatic shitstorm to happen.” She leaned forward, fiddling with her hands as if not knowing whether to clench them into fists or let them lay still. “But never in my wildest assumptions did I imagine that you would share your bed with a Dark Ranger!”

Alleria, who was curiously watching their exchange, nearly choked on her tea.

“What?” she looked at Jaina with an astonished expression on her face.

Despite the scrutiny, Jaina felt relief wash over her, but she quickly masked it with a frown. So Vereesa didn’t know exactly _whom_ she had been seeing, she only heard it was some random Forsaken elf. That was good. After all, if _this_ was how she reacted to a thought of a simple Dark Ranger, Tides only knew how she would have taken the news of Jaina and Sylvanas.

When Jaina failed to say anything, Vereesa’s countenance changed to that of concern. “Jaina, do you even understand how dangerous that was? How dangerous _they_ were? And… I can’t believe you were having an affair with the enemy!”

Now Jaina’s frown became genuine.

“Sin’dorei were also our enemy, yet you didn’t seem to have a problem with me seeing one of them just now.”

Vereesa’s ears wilted and she looked slightly embarrassed. “Well, that’s different,” she said, and then, clearly realizing how lame that sounded, sighed. “Look, I’m not upset with you. Not exactly. I’m upset that you didn’t tell me anything. I thought you trusted me enough to warn about such things…”

“I do,” Jaina reached and clasped Vereesa’s hand in her own. “You are my dearest friend, Vereesa, and I trust you implicitly. But my… my ranger and I didn’t know what our factions’ reaction would be if the word of our relationship got out. Can you imagine what Genn would do? Or my mother?”

Vereesa nodded slightly, thinking, and then her face darkened. “Yeah, and the Banshee would probably have killed your suitor as soon as she learned about it. Or worse — tried to exploit your connection.”

Jaina couldn’t tell Vereesa that Sylvanas definitely knew about their relationship and had never tried to use it to further her agenda, so she carefully ventured, “I don’t know about that.” Then she squeezed Vereesa’s hand. “But I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t risk everyone learning, and I couldn’t make you complicit in my… well, consorting with the enemy.”

Vereesa finally deflated. Jaina knew her reasoning was solid and it would convince her friend, despite her emotions running high. After a few moments of silence, the mage squeezed the elf’s hand again.

“We’re good?”

Vereesa nodded and smiled weakly. “Yes, Jaina. We are good.” When the mage pulled her into a hug, the elf returned it and grumbled. “As long as you’re not hiding anything similarly earth-shattering.”

Jaina sighed internally and wondered what would Vereesa do if she knew the whole truth.

 _Although it’s unlikely anyone’s going to find out anything about me and Sylvanas now, especially with the way our relationship is progressing_ , the mage mused sadly.

Then her eyes fell on Alleria. The eldest Windrunner was watching her thoughtfully, her gaze penetrating and all too knowing for Jaina’s taste.

_… Or maybe they will._

* * *

Sylvanas felt miserable. Tonight, those strange, reoccuring dreams had kept her in their grip for too long, and she woke up mid-morning, when Belore was already high over horizon. She also woke up panting and sweating again, gripping her sheets in her fists and hearing the rapid thumping of her heart in her ears. Those nightmares left her restless — and yes, she kept convincing herself that those were indeed _nightmares_ , because if she even for a second admitted to herself, that she woke up not from fear, but from excitement… and that, besides the sweat, there was also a considerable dampness between her legs…

Sylvanas shook herself. No, she was definitely not going there. Those dreams must have been simply a sign of what kind of impact the news of Jaina Proudmoore being involved with a Dark Ranger left on her. As for why seeing _herself_ in the place of that ranger felt so good… Well…

Sylvanas came to her senses once again, growled, got up from the bed, quickly got dressed and strode toward the breakfast lounge. She needed some fuel before she could fully wake up and find some distraction in her duties, like she did for the past few days.

However, as soon as she reached the room, her ears perked up — she heard voices coming from the balcony. Vereesa and Jaina. Curious, Sylvanas approached the curtain.

And froze, her eyes narrowing.

Jaina and Vereesa were embracing each other tightly, the face of her sister tucked into a crook of Lady Proudmoore’s neck. Sylvanas barely managed to keep herself from baring her fangs and snarling viciously and the sight.

This time she couldn’t deny what she felt, that hot, ugly feeling churning her insides — _jealousy_.

Reminding herself, that Jaina and Vereesa were old friends, and that Vereesa was still grieving for her late husband, Sylvanas reined in her anger. Then she cast a quick glance at Alleria — who was also present — making sure that the eldest Windrunner didn’t notice anything. Unfortunately, her too perceptive sister was already looking at Sylvanas with a slight smirk on her face.

Ignoring her, Sylvanas strode to a small table holding a teapot and a plate of morning snacks. Passing the still hugging friends, she muttered, “Good morning.”

That at least made Vereesa separate from Jaina. She gave Sylvanas a warm smile, while the mage simply nodded. Sylvanas poured herself some tea and began quickly stuffing her face with snacks. Having exchanged minimal pleasantries, Vereesa and Jaina paid her no more mind and resumed their conversation.

“So, _now_ can you tell me who it was?” Vereesa asked, her eyes sparkling with a signature elven luster that could only mean one thing — desire for gossip.

Jaina sighed. “Vereesa…”

“Was it Velonara? She’s kind of your type,” Sylvanas nearly choked on a biscuit, which earned her an amused glance from Alleria, but Vereesa completely ignored her. “Wait, no, it couldn’t have been her. I remember now, you started wearing that token last year, when we were drafting the treaty with the Horde in Dalaran. Velonara wasn’t part of the Forsaken entourage. Hmm… Who _was_ there?” She tapped on her chin thoughtfully. “Was it Clea?”

“No.”

“Kalira? Areiel?”

Jaina groaned. “Tides, you are worse than Anya…”

“Oh? Was it her? I heard she was more active than most in pursuing you.”

Enough was enough. No longer having the willpower to listen to that, Sylvanas placed her cup on the table and, driven by a sudden urge to act, left the balcony. Before she got out of earshot, however, she heard a bit more.

“Vereesa! Don’t we have something — _anything_ — better to talk about?”

“Well…” Vereesa’s voice sounded sour now. “Actually, there are some bad news I needed to tell you. Remember a missive came from Dalaran a few weeks ago? There was a break-in into the Dalaran Vault…”

Sylvanas didn’t hear what exactly happened in Dalaran, nor did she particularly care. Following an impulse, she went down to the first floor and walked into the armory. There she took her bow and hunting gear from a weapons rack, placed them onto the table and began preparing herself for a trip in the woods.

“Going somewhere?”

“ _Anar’alah_!..” Sylvanas startled and whirled around. Only four people in Sylvanas’ life could successfully sneak up on her: her mother, when she was younger; Nathanos, Vereesa and… “Lady Sun, do you _want_ me to die a second time?!”

“Fourth,” Alleria replied matter-of-factly, leaning onto the weapons rack. Ignoring Sylvanas’ confused look, she continued, “And no, I didn’t want to startle you. Not this time, anyway.” Then she looked over the spread gear. “However, I do wish to know where you are going all of a sudden.”

“Hunting,” Sylvanas curtly replied, while stashing some of the supplies into her pockets and filling the quiver with arrows.

Alleria quirked an eyebrow. “So late? It’s almost noon.”

Sylvanas shrugged. “I just want to clear my head. Catching any game would only be a bonus.”

“Of course,” the smug tone Alleria used clearly meant that she didn’t quite believe her. Still, the eldest sister pulled away from the rack and turned toward exit. However, before walking away, she glanced over her shoulder. “By the way, don’t bother catching anything small — your rangers have dragged so many pheasants and ducks that we are going to start quacking soon if we keep eating them.” She gave Sylvanas a cheeky grin. “Try to catch some deer — I heard Jaina mention that she hadn’t eaten a decent venison stew in years.”

Before Sylvanas could yell at her, Alleria disappeared through the door.

* * *

Sylvanas returned several hours later carrying a young, freshly killed deer across her shoulders. Her mood, however, hasn’t improved since the morning. In fact, it slightly worsened.

There were several reasons for that. First was that with a long walk and clear air came a clarity of mind, and that clarity brought a certain realization — she was attracted to Jaina Proudmoore.

After some pondering and thinking about her dreams, came another — she was _very_ attracted to Jaina Proudmoore.

And, if she was completely honest with herself, that was why she went hunting in the first place. She simply gave in to her cultural and biological urges, fell to the same madness that consumed her rangers. Among the elves the first step in any courting usually began with a hunt — a way to show their significant other that they could provide for them. However, that was the way of _ordinary_ elves. For Farstriders, bringing as much food as they could to the table simply wasn’t enough. They were also supposed to show their prowess with a bow. So, they chose the smallest game they could find and tried to make the kill as clean as possible, preferably aiming for the eye.

That was why lately Lady Jaina was assailed by rangers with their offerings of ducks, pheasants, foxes and squirrels. And that was also why Sylvanas was in such a poor mood — she couldn’t bring herself to openly show her intentions by bringing something like that. Deciding that she would rather suffer smug comments from her elder sister than hear remarks of an entire ranger squadron, Sylvanas followed Alleria’s advice and brought home a wholesome deer. However, all the way back home she lamented that Jaina would never deduce the catch was meant for her as a courting gift, and so Sylvanas tried to think of another gesture.

Alas, by the time she reached the Spire, she came up with nothing. Cursing her earlier indecisiveness, Sylvanas went for the cellar, wanting to leave the deer there for carving.

However, as soon as she descended the stairs, she stopped short. A faint magelight was illuminating the usually dark room, and in its glow Sylvanas saw the subject of her emotional turmoil — Jaina Proudmoore.

The mage hadn’t noticed her yet. Sylvanas cleared her throat, and Jaina started, a small yelp leaving her lips. She turned around and her eyes fell onto Sylvanas.

“Oh…” She let out a relieved sigh. “It’s just you. Thank the Tides.”

Not sure how to react to this but pleased that Jaina didn’t seem to mind her intrusion, Sylvanas hesitated for a second, taking the archmage in. She was sitting on a crate of what looked like carrot, holding an open book in her lap, with the magelight hovering over her right shoulder.

“Are you hiding from someone?” Sylvanas carefully asked, walking over to the carving table and lowering her kill there.

“Yes! Your rangers.” Jaina shook her head. “I know they mean well, but lately they’ve been very…”

“Obnoxious? Clingy? Insufferably flirtatious?” Sylvanas smiled wryly, turning to face Jaina and lightly leaning onto the edge on the table. “Yes, well, you’ve given them quite the reason to use their questionable charms, Lady Proudmoore.”

Jaina let out a huff of laughter. “If I knew they would start behaving like that, I would have taken my token off and hidden it far away from prying elven eyes.”

“Why didn’t you?” Sylvanas froze as soon as the words left her mouth. Eyes wide, she looked at Jaina, fearing that she would rile the mage up again with her prodding. The last thing she wanted right now was to offend Jaina.

The mage searched her face for a long moment. Finally, having found no trace of malice there, she quietly spoke, “Because _she_ asked me not to.”

Sylvanas thought about her next words for a second. Since she didn’t want to upset Jaina again by asking about her old flame, the elf decided to get back to a more lighthearted topic — namely her rangers’ antics.

“Unfortunately, when a Farstrider sets their mind to something, very little can stop them,” she said with a hint of humor. “I’m afraid, even I couldn’t force them away from you now.” She didn’t tell Jaina that she had already tried and failed. Nor that she was considering joining their courting games just a few minutes ago.

Jaina rolled her eyes. “I did entertain a thought of casting a lightning cloak onto myself,” the mage said dryly, but the uptick of her mouth told Sylvanas she was joking. “Alas, I figured you wouldn’t appreciate me electrocuting your troops.”

Sylvanas chuckled.

“They could use a good burn, but I doubt they need any more reason to consider you _stunning_ , Lady Jaina.”

Despite the joke being rather awful, Jaina laughed freely, and Sylvanas ears twitched upwards at hearing that sweet sound. Looking at the sparks dancing in the mage’s eyes, Sylvanas wondered, if, maybe, she did the right thing by not participating in her rangers’ ‘game’. Jaina even went so far as to hide from them, and during this week she never once reciprocated anyone’s advances. Surely that meant something. Perhaps, Sylvanas thought, everyone picked a wrong way to the mage’s heart. And, perhaps, Sylvanas herself could choose another road.

“While I can’t ward those buffoons off of you,” she began slowly, “I _can_ offer you a more pleasant hiding place.” Jaina visibly perked up at that and Sylvanas continued. “There is a small inlet not far from the Spire. It’s off the patrol routes and secluded enough, so that nobody will bother you there. I can show you the way.” When Jaina bit her lip, uncertain, Sylvanas added. “Just think about it — open sea stretching to the horizon, salty fresh air, cries of seagulls… I’m pretty certain it beats any stuffy dark cellar.”

“You’re invoking my inner Kul Tiran, aren’t you,” Jaina groaned — the sound sending a bolt straight to Sylvanas’ lower regions — but stood up the next second. Sylvanas rejoiced.

“Is it working?” she asked, offering Jaina her hand. The mage took it without hesitation.

“Obviously,” she answered. Then, after Sylvanas helped her out of the cellar and closed the door, she said, “I must warn you, though, — there’s no way we’ll be able to get out of the Spire without your rangers noticing us and following.”

Sylvanas raised an eyebrow. “No way, you say?” she drawled, taking the mage’s words as a challenge. Still holding Jaina’s hand, she pulled her along. “Just follow my lead.”

* * *

They arrived at the inlet laughing and giddy like children. Sylvanas stayed true to her word and helped Jaina sneak past her rangers, treating their escape as a game to be won. Several times laughter bubbled from Jaina at the worst possible moment, nearly giving away their location, but every time they managed to escape from vigilant elves — mostly because of Sylvanas’ reflexes and once because of Jaina’s quick thinking and a few well-cast illusions. They both enjoyed this game immensely, especially the time when Sylvanas pushed Jaina into a dark corner, hiding from Marrah and Anya. They were standing awfully close, breathing into each other and blushing furiously the whole time, but both secretly decided it was worth it.

However, the joy evaporated from Sylvanas as soon as they came to the shore and she realized what her next step was going to be. Her ears wilted slightly.

“Well, here we are,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment at the fact that their little adventure was coming to the end. After all, Jaina wanted privacy and escape from the pesky elves who demanded too much of her attention lately. And that meant _all_ elves, Sylvanas included. “I doubt anyone will find you here. Please, enjoy your reading, Lady Jaina.”

She bowed shallowly and was about to walk away, when Jaina whirled on her, her eyes wide and not at all happy.

“Wait, you are leaving?”

Sylvanas paused, not daring to hope. “I assumed you wanted to be left alone, Lady Jaina. And after the show my rangers put on, I can’t really blame you.”

Jaina frowned and looked around for a moment. Then her eyes returned to Sylvanas, and she looked at the elf, her gaze firm.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind some company.”

Sylvanas’ eyes widened, and she felt her stomach make a somersault.

“Then it will be my pleasure to provide it,” she softly answered and gestured with her hand. “After you, Lady Jaina.”

The human woman smiled at her warmly, her face and hair sparkling in the late day’s sun.

“Just Jaina, please,” she said warmly, before taking Sylvanas’ outstretched hand into her own and pulling her along.

* * *

They’ve talked for hours, first walking the length of the small beach and then sitting in the shadow of a small cliff on the south side of the inlet. Both were completely lost in their own world, and the entire time Sylvanas couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mage. From her silver and gold hair, shining in the sun; from how her ocean-blue eyes and face would light up when they touched a topic she was particularly interested in; or how her cheeks warmed with a blush when Sylvanas found courage to make a comment about that.

But it wasn’t just her beauty that was captivating. No, Jaina was also a wonderful companion — an attentive listener with a sharp mind and even sharper tongue. Incredibly intelligent, but also fantastically easy to talk to. Before long, Sylvanas completely forgot every reason why she ever denied herself the pleasure of this woman’s company.

They talked about everything that came to mind. Rangers’ shenanigans and the village’s progress. Jaina’s research and Sylvanas’ duties. Their common acquaintances and Sylvanas’ sisters. Very soon the topics became more personal — Sylvanas told the mage about her brother and parents, and how their deaths changed her, changed their family; and Jaina retold her the story of how she lost her father, how her nation and her own mother disowned her, and how the guilt still weighted on her soul. Then they both lost themselves in a more pleasant memories — Jaina recounting her childhood sailing adventures with Daelin, and Sylvanas remembering how Lirath would sing and play the lute for them, while she and her sisters danced to his music. Sometimes Sylvanas had a feeling that Jaina already knew all these stories — once or twice the mage even added a few details that Sylvanas forgot to mention. But she still listened raptly to the elf, and Sylvanas finally decided that it didn’t matter. Who knew, perhaps Vereesa had told her friend the same tales of their past?

They finally remembered the outside world existed when sun began to set. After a short walk through the woods, they returned to the Spire, where the pair was greeted by a slightly smug Alleria.

Both ignored the knowing smirk on the eldest Windrunner’s face and the twin blushes it elicited on their faces.

“The dinner is ready,” Alleria drawled. “You might want to hurry up before the venison stew gets cold.”

Jaina inhaled deeply and sighed contently. “Oh, it smells heavenly. I haven’t eaten venison in ages.”

Sylvanas looked at the mage. Seeing the delighted smile on her face, the elf decided that her earlier hunt was well worth it.

Even if she’d have to tolerate Alleria’s teasing for the foreseeable centuries.

* * *

Since their trip to the inlet, Jaina began to sometimes notice the strangest things happen around her.

They were small things, but on occasion when the mage fell asleep on a balcony with a book in her hands, she would wake up wrapped in a warm blanket she never remembered conjuring. Or, the times she was called away during some experiment, when she returned late in the evening she would find her instruments already cleaned and tucked into their places in her pouch.

There was also one time when she loudly complained to Modera and Kalec that Magisters of Silvermoon had refused to share their newest discoveries in the field of arcane addiction with her; and then a few days later she found the tome she needed on the desk in her room. Finally, every morning, whenever she had her solitary breakfast, she would find it already prepared, the tea still scalding hot, but her mysterious attendant already gone, having left a single flower on a tray near the teapot.

The first thought that came to mind was that it was the work of the ever present — and ever pestering — rangers. But their courting games were much louder, and grander, and… not quite so thoughtful. And they always made sure Jaina knew exactly which one of them was behind each gift, lest she attribute the offering to any of their rivals. Yet, this suitor desired to remain anonymous. The mage prayed with all her heart she knew who it was, but for now she was afraid to jump to any conclusions.

One day Jaina was lounging on the balcony of her room, reading the very book her mysterious shadow had brought — “Treatise on Arcane Addiction”, written by Aethas Sunreaver. Despite all the bad blood between the Sunreavers and Jaina, the archmage still respected Aethas for his scholarly accomplishments. The treatise itself was a riveting read. Jaina’s eyes slid over the pages and she marveled at the depth and meticulousness of Aethas’ research — the breakthroughs he accomplished could completely change modern mages’ approach to arcane exposure not just in elves, but in every sentient being! As Jaina wondered if she should get over her past grievances and try to reach Aethas for help with their project, she reached for the table and popped a cherry into her mouth.

_Wait, cherry?_

Jaina looked aside and her eyes widened. When she came up here, she only brought a mug of her favorite tea with her, but now there was an entire tray of delicious snacks placed right next to her. Berries, fruits, pastries… As Jaina carefully picked one up, she realized it was one of her favorites — a piece of the fisher’s pie.

Oh, and there was also a fresh cup of tea standing right next to her already empty mug.

Bewildered, the mage looked around. The cup was still steaming, so whoever brought it here couldn’t have been gone for long. Yet the balcony was completely empty. Jaina stood up and walked to her room. Alas, she found no sign that someone was or had just been there as well.

Still baffled, Jaina returned to her seat and eyed the snacks. For a short moment she even wondered if they were poisoned, but then the mage dismissed that thought. She seriously doubted that anyone could approach her in the Spire that was guarded by wards, two former Aspects, and a gaggle of rangers who hounded her every step and probably even now were waiting for her outside. And even if such an expert-assassin existed, they definitely wouldn’t try to poison her — why bother when they could have simply stabbed her with a dagger?

Biting her lip, Jaina briefly wondered if this was also the work of her attentive suitor, but she quickly banished that thought. After all, right now there was no way for her to figure out who brought this to her and why.

Sighing, the mage settled deeper into her chair, reached for the fork, took a forkul of a fisher’s pie in her mouth and continued reading the book.

* * *

The same thing — food appearing next to her out of nowhere — happened again the next time she settled for reading on the balcony. And then a time after that.

On the fourth day Jaina moved her chair so that the entire table was always in her sight. She expected that whoever brought her snacks would be forced to enter her field of view when they approached her again. Satisfied with this little trap, the mage got to her reading.

After some time, Jaina thought she heard some muffled noise on her left. She whirled, looking over her shoulder and trying to find its source. However, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Frowning, Jaina turned back…

And froze, her mouth agape.

The tray, full of snacks, was already in front of her. As was the steaming cup of tea.

Coming to her senses, Jaina quickly stood up and walked across the balcony toward her room. As expected, it was empty. Not stopping, the mage walked out of the room and into the hall. There she looked around.

The hall was also empty.

Sighing in defeat, Jaina returned to the balcony. As she consumed those delicious snacks, she began plotting her next step.

* * *

The next day she placed a simple ward on the balcony threshold. It was supposed to tell her whenever someone was crossing it. Happy with this simple solution, Jaina opened the new book she brought with her.

At some point during her reading, the mage felt a presence lightly brush against the ward and then pull away abruptly, as if spooked. She quickly turned her head, but through the balcony curtain she saw only the closing door of her room.

Shaking her head, she returned to her reading. By now the mage knew there was no way she would catch that elf — and it could only be an elf, for no one else could move so silently — by chasing after her. And since Jaina had already thought about her next step, she decided to enjoy the reading.

Although it was much less enjoyable now that she scared off her suitor along with her food...

* * *

For her next attempt, Jaina had decided to up her game and use an even more powerful ward — the one that would also tell her _who_ walked into its area of effect. She also placed it a bit farther, just outside her room, in case her sneaky feeder expected to find it in the same place.

Unfortunately, the mage played herself. This time, she was feeling a disturbance in the ward every five or so minutes. Apparently, the rest of the rangers hadn’t given up on pursuing her yet, so she felt Marrah, Anya, Velonara and Alina pass or linger next to her room at least seven times each. Once she even felt Sylvanas, but the elf walked past her rooms so briskly that Jaina, disheartened, had decided that she was merely passing by.

That day she didn’t receive any snacks either.

* * *

The last two failures had made Jaina realize that magic was not the answer. After all, elves were very sensitive to it and could probably smell it from a mile away. Still, the mage wasn’t going to give up until she knew for sure who had been silently courting her.

The next time she positioned herself at the table exactly the same way she sat the first time — her back to the door and the table on her right, just slightly out of her view. However, this time, instead of reading, she was simply turning the pages over with one hand, while her eyes were trained on the other. There she held a tiny round mirror, smaller than her palm. It was positioned low, hidden from anyone else’s eyes by her frame, and trained over her shoulder, right at the place her shadow was supposed to appear.

The mirror was too small for Jaina to see much, but she hoped to glimpse at least something to confirm the mysterious elf’s identity. So, she waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the image in the mirror changed, and the mage’s breath caught. There, in the tiny circle of the mirror, she saw a familiar lock of platinum hair.

 _Sylvanas_.

Her first urge was to turn and grab the elf’s hand so that she couldn’t run away again. Ever. But Jaina held still, waiting for Sylvanas to finish stealthily lowering the tray onto the table and leave.

And the mage let her go. Biting her lips, with her eyes full of tears and her heart beating so hard it could jump out of her ribcage, Jaina stared in the distance.

 _Sylvanas_ was courting her.

After all the fighting, and sniping, and snide comments and distrust that the elf felt toward Jaina, they had _finally_ began to become closer. The mage’s heart soared at that thought, she felt so light, so _giddy_.

Then she suddenly frowned and pursed her lips. It occurred to her that it was _she_ who was supposed to win Sylvanas back, not the other way around. Yet she was so hurt by the elf’s initial reaction to her, that she withdrew and took a defensive position, not even trying to build bridges between them. Jaina shook her head. She failed Sylvanas, and even now it was the elf that was making an effort to reach her.

Jaina drummed her fingers on the table. That would not do. She needed to reciprocate somehow, to show Sylvanas that her actions were appreciated and that Jaina wouldn’t mind getting even closer.

And idea came to her mind and the mage quickly summoned a quill, an inkwell and a small piece of parchment. She hastily wrote a note on it and with a flick of her wrist sent it to the intended addressee in Kul Tiras. Satisfied, she allowed herself to relax in a chair and enjoy the book and the refreshments Sylvanas had brought her.

* * *

For several days Jaina allowed the same routine to continue unchanged. She never gave away the fact that she knew it was Sylvanas that fed her during her reading — and sometimes during her work — and Sylvanas never hinted at it either. Nor did she take part in her rangers’ silly games, that still continued despite Jaina’s repeated rejections. Sylvanas maintained her distance, but Jaina noticed that she was always around these days, always within her reach, and always ready to help or simply to talk with the mage. Sometimes, when they were in the same space, Jaina would notice the lingering look the elf would send her, but every time the mage caught her, Sylvanas would go crimson from her neck to the tips of her ears and quickly avert her eyes.

And Jaina, intent on following through with the idea she had earlier, patiently waited. One day, when she was lounging of the balcony with a book in her lap and a plate of snacks stealthily placed next to her by the attentive elf, a raven flew by and landed, perching itself on the railing. There was a small rolled up piece of paper attached to its leg, and after Jaina noticed it, she walked to the bird at took the note from it. After feeding the raven a small treat from her table and sending it on its way home, the mage read the message it brought. Her face lit up with a smile. She glanced at the remaining delicacies and, after some thought, conjured a brown paper, wrapped the food in it and placed everything — with the exception of a single sunfruit — inside an also-conjured paper bag. Taking the bag in one hand and the sunfruit in another, Jaina strode out of the room and ventured out in search of Sylvanas.

Luckily, she noticed her immediately as she descended the stairs into the sitting room. Two of the rangers — Anya and Kalira — were also present. They perked up at seeing Jaina and moved to intercept her, but hung back as soon as they saw her making a beeline toward Sylvanas. Despite their nearly obnoxious pursuing of the mage, for some reason they always gave her and their General privacy whenever they talked to each other.

Sylvanas was sitting at the couch and waxing the string of her bow. She lifted her head when she heard the mage approach and smiled. Putting the bow aside, the elf stood up.

“Jaina,” she greeted her. Noticing how purposefully Jaina walked up to her, she faltered for a second and then carefully asked, “Is everything alright?”

Jaina didn’t say a word. Stopping in front of the elf, she silently handed her the sunfruit. Sylvanas took it from the mage and looked down at it, confused. It took her a second to understand what exactly she was looking at. As the elf realized that she’d been caught, her ears immediately stood up, her cheeks flushed and she looked at Jaina as a doe would look at a sabercat. Satisfied by her reaction and amused by the fact that she managed to catch off guard the stoic Ranger General, Jaina grinned and finally said,

“Yes, everything is just fine. I was merely hoping if you could help me out and show me the way to the inlet again. I’m quite certain I would be lost in the woods without you.” The innocent lie rolled off her tongue easily, and with the corner of her eye Jaina noticed that two rangers exchanged glances at the mention of the inlet and going there _again_. The mage didn’t care, however. In fact, she didn’t even bother lowering her voice. Firstly, because it was for naught and elves would hear her anyway, and secondly, because she firmly decided that, if they insist on following them, she would teleport them all the way to Kalimdor and leave them there.

Sylvanas eyes widened a fraction, then she swallowed tightly and answered, “Of course, my lady. I’d be happy to.”

“Wonderful,” Jaina chirped and handed Sylvanas the bag with the food as well. “There, carry this. We’re going to need it.” Then, before any other elves could butt in and join them, she marched out of the Spire, a bewildered Ranger General trailing behind her.

* * *

“It’s… a boat.”

Sylvanas blinked several times to make sure her eyes didn’t deceive her. But nope, when she opened them again, there still was a small boat with a single mast and sail, rocking on the waves.

Jaina smiled wryly. “Very observant,” she said, amused. That made Sylvanas’ ears perk up a bit and finally look at the mage. “My father gave me this dinghy when I was little,” Jaina explained, her expression softening as she gazed at the waves lapping the shore and thumping quietly against the side of the dinghy. She looked almost wistful, completely unguarded, and Sylvanas was staring at her, drinking in every word, every moment. “Despite our noble blood, every Proudmoore is a sailor first and foremost. So my father taught me everything he knew about handling a ship. Starting with this boat.” She turned to Sylvanas again, an odd gleam in her eye, and after looking at the elf for a moment she offered her hand. “Would you like to sail with me, Sylvanas?” she asked almost shyly.

Despite the rush she felt at the offer, Sylvanas eyes the boat suspiciously. “I don’t know a first thing about sailing,” she admitted, but Jaina only smiled patiently.

“I’ll teach you, if you want,” she said, her hand still extended toward Sylvanas. The hopefulness in the mages eyes was her undoing, and, forgetting her misgivings, the elf took her hand.

Despite the initial hesitation, Sylvanas proved to be quite capable. Jaina had heard before that in the Horde sin’dorei often made fine sailors, what with their natural agility and quick reflexes. But now that she got to see how quickly Sylvanas had gotten the hang of the ropes, the Lord Admiral was actually impressed.

At first Sylvanas dutifully followed her instructions and tried to remember the names of the different parts and ropes. She only briefly got distracted several times, whenever Jaina had to come close to show her something or when she was helping Sylvanas tie some knots and their hands brushed.

Soon, however, the elf grew confident. And after that she became bold. She would zip around the boat, neglecting every safety rule Jaina had tried to instill in her, and grinning mischievously at the mage whenever she tried to comment on that. Thankfully, her dexterity made up for the lack of caution. Amused by her enthusiasm, the mage let Sylvanas continue with her shenanigans.

At some point, however, the elf grew _too_ cocky — or, perhaps, she was simply paying less attention to the sea and more to the beautiful mage sitting at the prow and laughing joyfully at her antics. Whatever the reason, she didn’t notice a subtle change of wind and how the boom began slowly rotating toward her.

Jaina’s eyes widened. “Sylvanas, watch out!”

The elf quickly turned and managed to sidestep the treacherous boom, but at the same time a soft wave kicked the side of the boat, rocking it. Sylvanas, having shifted her weight a second ago, lost her balance, yelped, rather ungracefully stumbled over the side and plopped down into the water.

Jaina rushed to the side, preparing to float Sylvanas out of the water if necessary, but the elf immediately emerged, coughing and looking like an indignant cat that was forced to take a bath. Jaina couldn’t help herself — she laughed at the sight, and Sylvanas, climbing overboard, shot her a dirty look.

“I’m glad my misfortune amuses you, Jaina,” she grumbled, although there was no real malice in her voice.

Jaina chuckled and with a flick of her wrist dried Sylvanas’ clothes and hair. The elf sighed at that and looked at her with great appreciation.

“This was no misfortune,” Jaina corrected her. “You got careless. And the Sea is usually quick to punish those who disrespect her,” Jaina said, mirth still dancing in her eyes.

“But does she give those insolent fools a second chance?” Only after she uttered those words did Sylvanas notice the double meaning in them.

Jaina gave her a long look. “Sometimes,” she finally replied, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

* * *

They finished their boat-trip and then had a long walk in the woods, which finished with a small picknick, where they ate the food that Jaina had wrapped earlier and drank wine she teleported from her mother’s reserves in Proudmoore Keep. Time ran away from them once again, and they only returned to the Spire many hours later, when the sun had already begun to move lower toward the horizon.

When the mage and the Ranger General walked into the Spire, still conversing animatedly, they were greeted by their previous company — Anya and Kalira — and a rather tired Alleria, who was lying on a couch and discussing something hunt-related with the rangers. After the initial surprise, the eldest sister’s expression settled on amused — which seemed to be her usual reaction these days whenever Jaina and Sylvanas were concerned. Anya and Kalira were also watching them, their eyes narrowed, taking in every detail, every movement.

As soon as Sylvanas noticed that they weren’t alone, she frowned, but Jaina seemed unbothered by the other elves’ presence. She nodded to Alleria in greeting, smiled to the rangers and then turned to Sylvanas, her smile turning radiant.

“I suppose this is it,” Jaina said demurely. “Thank you for your company, Sylvanas. I quite enjoyed our trip.”

“I enjoyed it as well,” Sylvanas smoothly answered, unable not to grin back at the mage, but noticing with the corner of her eye the twitching of her rangers’ ears. They were being watched, and because of that Sylvanas couldn’t say everything she wanted to.

“Will I see you at dinner?” Jaina asked hopefully, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Sylvanas’ ears drooped. In her daze of spending time with Jaina she had forgotten that she had planned to lead a patrol tonight. Or, more accurately, a scouting party, to push a bit further into the Ghostlands and make sure the Scourge still remained beyond the borders established by the wards.

After Ban’dinoriel, Sylvanas didn’t particularly trust in the wards or magic to keep her people safe.

“I’m afraid I won’t be joining you tonight,” she said, regret coloring her tone. “I have a previous engagement I am unable to postpone.”

Jaina looked crestfallen, but she covered it with a teasing smirk.

“Oh? With whom?”

“The Scourge,” Sylvanas answered truthfully. When the mage looked worried, the elf hurried to comfort her. “We probably won’t even cross paths with them. I simply need to check that they haven’t crossed the border you and the Aspects established.”

“Yes, because that can’t be done during the day, so we have to go hunt us some ghouls at night,” Anya grumbled under her breath. She and Kalira were part of the scouting party as well. Sylvanas shot them both a glare and the rangers quieted.

“Oh, well…” Jaina still seemed upset, but she managed to smile at Sylvanas again. “Then I suppose I’m dining alone tonight.”

“Not alone,” Alleria, who had been silently watching the exchange, said from her place on the couch. “I’ll join you. We haven’t spoken in a while, I bet there’s a lot we need to catch up on.”

Jaina’s cheeks flushed at the perceived suggestion. Clearing her throat, she bid the rangers and Sylvanas farewells, asked them to be careful, and then hastily retreated to her rooms.

The elves watched her disappear at the top of the stairs, and then everyone turned to Sylvanas.

“So, how has ‘not joining our ridiculous courting games’ been treating you, General?” Kalira asked. Sylvanas had expected to hear at least some hostility from the ranger, but instead she sounded simply amused. If Kalira was upset that Jaina hadn’t chosen her, she didn’t let it show.

“Wonderfully,” Sylvanas said, raising her chin defiantly and crossing her arms.

Anya and Kalira both grinned at that.

“And I suppose long walks to the inlet do not interrupt Lady Jaina’s work or your duties in any way?” Anya asked, her voice silky and suggestive.

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes at them.

“Don’t you two have a patrol to prepare to?” she asked, switching into the Ranger General mode to avoid any more embarrassment.

“Now, now, Sylvanas, don’t change the subject…”

“Outside, now,” she barked, not having any more of their bullshit. “Standard gear. Gather everyone and be prepared to move in five minutes.”

After a dramatic sigh, rangers saluted her and finally walked out of the door. That left Sylvanas with Alleria, whom, unfortunately, she couldn’t command just as effectively. Not outside the real battle, anyway.

“So…” Alleria began after a minute, drawing Sylvanas’ attention to her.

“So?” Sylvanas repeated, looking at her sister warily and mentally begging her to drop this subject.

“Are we going to talk about this?” Alleria still had a slight smirk playing on her lips, but her eyes were gentle. Sylvanas allowed herself to relax a fraction.

“There’s nothing to talk about… yet,” she added truthfully, and after a few seconds of debating with herself, added, “But… There’s something I want to do. Soon. And I’m going to need your help.”

“Oh?” Alleria’s eyebrows lifted, her smirk getting wider. “And _then_ can we talk about it?”

Sylvanas couldn’t help but smirk back at her.

“Maybe,” she amended, and then a whistle from outside announced that the rangers were ready to move out. Glancing at the door, Sylvanas turned and fixed Alleria with the last look. “I need to go, but, _please_ , don’t torture Jaina at dinner. She doesn’t deserve to be put through the sisterly hazing Vereesa and I had to endure.”

With that she moved to the door. Just as she was about to cross the threshold, however, Alleria’s voice reached her.

“If she’s to be my future _sister-in-law_ then that’s a must! A rite of passage if you will.”

“I said, _we’re not talking about it_ , Alleria!”

* * *

After that day, one by one rangers stopped following Jaina around. They still talked to her and greeted her warmly, but all of their posturing and flirtatiousness was gone, as if they tried to keep a respectful distance from her. The mage wasn’t sure whether they grew tired of her rejections, or if they saw how close she grew to their General. It certainly seemed like the latter, since every single one of them would conveniently disappear from sight whenever she and Sylvanas would cross paths.

And that happened quite often as of late, although not as often as they would both like.

Since Vereesa had to go to Dalaran to investigate the break-in that happened there, and Alleria — who, thankfully, never once mentioned to Jaina that she had, apparently, figured out what was going on between her and Sylvanas — was splitting her time between the Spire and Stormwind where her husband and son lived, it was Sylvanas who often kept Jaina company in the mornings now. While still keeping to her early rising routine, the elf would always come back by the time Jaina woke up to have breakfast with her.

Their talks gradually became more informal, more personal. Sometimes — more often than not, in fact, — Sylvanas would ask Jaina to accompany her when her duties forced the elf to travel to the village. This way she could steal the mage for herself for a couple of hours while they made their way there and back. And neither thought to mention the fact that Jaina could teleport them to the village in a matter of seconds.

One such day they were returning late. The sun was low over the horizon, and instead of walking as they usually did, the pair took horses. Still, despite taking mounts to speed up their journey, they rode slowly, hoping to drag it out and spend more time in each other’s presence.

Throughout the evening, Jaina couldn’t shake the feeling that Sylvanas was nervous for some reason. She kept glancing at the sun, as if to gauge how much time… passed? Was left? The mage didn’t know, and she wondered if it had something to do with the serious — and very secretive — talk Sylvanas had with Alleria before the pair had left for the village. When Jaina tried to ask Sylvanas if she was okay, however, the elf simply smiled at her and masterfully derailed the conversation.

Alas, the trip was over too soon for both their tastes. Sighing, Jaina got off her horse and turned to Sylvanas, who’d already done the same.

“Thank you for keeping me company, Jaina,” the elf spoke softly, her gaze intense and never leaving the mage.

“Yes, well… Thank _you_ for being such a lovely company,” as she said that, Jaina hid her bashful smile by turning and leading the horse to its stall. Because of that she missed the subtle twitch of Sylvanas’ ears and her own smile.

Once Sylvanas had also led her horse inside, Jaina paused near the stables. She was always reluctant to part from the elf after their trips. They were the closest thing she had to the time _before_ , and Sylvanas was the freest whenever there were no curious eyes upon them.

“I… It’s getting late,” Jaina finally spoke, glancing briefly at the sun setting over the forest and then returning her eyes to Sylvanas, who walked toward her and stopped in front of the mage. “I suppose I shall retire for tonight.”

“Actually,” Sylvanas began smoothly, her gaze suddenly hot and burning into Jaina, “I was planning to steal another hour of your time. If you don’t mind, of course.”

Jaina quirked an eyebrow and unconsciously licked her lips. “Oh? What did you have in mind?” she asked, feeling slightly breathless.

Sylvanas stood a little straighter and assumed a somewhat military pose, her hands behind her back — something Jaina knew she did whenever she was nervous. Somehow, noticing that and knowing that Jaina wasn’t alone in fighting her sudden jitters, made the mage breathe a bit easier.

“I was hoping we could dine together, Jaina,” Sylvanas said softly, and then, lowering her voice even further, added. “Just the two of us.”

Jaina swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Despite them both trying, Jaina’s and Sylvanas’ respective duties didn’t give them as much time together as they wanted. Besides breakfasts and occasional trips to the village, their daily routines would usually lead them apart. And on a rare occasion that they did dine together, they would be joined by Alleria… or, until recently, a gaggle of rangers.

Now, however, Jaina realized, that Sylvanas wasn’t simply offering to share a meal. She was offering something more. A new step in the dance they did together but never really talked about, hiding behind meaningful innuendos, and glances, and fleeting touches.

Perhaps, it would even be a new beginning.

“I would be delighted to,” the mage finally managed to say.

Sylvanas’ nervous countenance brightened at that. She smiled and wordlessly offered Jaina her arm.

Together, they walked into the Spire. In the sitting room they were met by the two former Aspects — apparently, Nozdormu and Kalec had been conduction some research, got carried away and hadn’t returned to the village yet. The dragons greeted them, but didn’t start a conversation, still engrossed in whatever they were doing. So Jaina and Sylvanas passed them quickly, then silently ascended the stairs to the second floor, and there Sylvanas gently steered Jaina toward the balcony where they usually had breakfasts together. As soon as the mage crossed the threshold, her eyes widened and she gasped.

The sun had nearly crossed the horizon, spilling its last rays over the land and coloring everything in deep reds, oranges and even purples. The balcony, however, was lit by softer shades, coming from several magelights, floating around the table.

And the table… The table was laden with food that made Jaina’s mouth water. There was enough to feed a large squad of human soldiers — or a small squad of hungry elves — and as Jaina looked closer, she realized that most of the dishes were made of meat… meat, that, suspiciously, mirrored the prey Sylvanas brought yesterday from her long, long hunt.

Jaina glanced at the elf, and saw her fiddling nervously with the hem of her doublet, eyes darting around as if she was quickly making sure that everything was perfect.

As she realized that the mage was looking at her, she met Jaina’s gaze.

“Is the meal to your satisfaction, Lady Proudmoore?” she asked, and was it Jaina’s imagination, or did her voice actually tremble slightly?

“ _It’s a spread worthy of Belore_ ,” Jaina answered in Thalassian. Sylvanas’ eyes widened in shock and her face flushed. The phrase was a traditional response to elven courting, that, as far as the mage knew, usually involved such opulent displays of hunting prowess.

And by uttering it, Jaina had formally accepted Sylvanas’ offer of courtship.

As well as did the impossible and left Sylvanas Windrunner speechless.

Still blushing to the tips of her ears, the elf gestured for Jaina to come to the table. Usual chairs were replaced by two plush sofas that could be sat or lounged upon during the meal. Jaina lowered herself on the one to the left. Sylvanas at the same time took a bottle from the table, uncorked it, filled both their glasses with deep red syrupy elven wine and only then did she take a seat across from Jaina.

“Enjoy,” the elf said, as they clinked their glasses, her heated gaze never leaving the mage.

As they were making it through courses, Sylvanas would take it upon herself to attend to Jaina’s needs, be it a refill, a second helping or a cup with sauce. Whatever it was, the elf seemingly tried to read Jaina’s mind and immediately give her what she wanted. At first Jaina tried to gently stop her and make her relax, but Sylvanas was persistent. Accepting that she was going to be the center of her attention this evening, Jaina did something else — she made Sylvanas the center of _hers._ At first it bewildered the Ranger General, but then she tuned into this little game, and the evening went on smoothly.

With smiles, laughter, light banter and coy looks they’ve made it to dessert. When Sylvanas placed a delicious looking, but unfamiliar treat in front of Jaina, the mage’s mouth watered again. She armed herself with a fork and tried to spear the juicy pastry with it. Alas, it fell apart. Frowning, Jaina tried to help catch it with her knife, but it kept falling off. After chasing it all over the plate, the mage let out a huff and heard a soft laugh. She glared at the smirking elf.

“Here,” Sylvanas said, picking up a flat piece of something Jaina initially thought to be a piece décor. After a moment hesitation, the elf stood up, walked around the table and for the first time this evening lowered herself on the sofa next to Jaina, their thighs brushing. The mage turned slightly to face her.

“Let me show you,” the elf murmured, gathering the fallen apart pieces into the flat something — it turned out to be a piece of sweet flexible dough — and turning fully to Jaina. The mage was immediately lost in her eyes, the rest of their surroundings dimming in comparison with their glow.

Slowly, Sylvanas lifted her hand that held the treat, and it hovered less than an inch from Jaina’s lips. “Open up,” the elf teased, her voice mischievous, but also uncertain, as if she feared she was crossing a line. Holding her gaze, Jaina parted her lips and slowly took the pastry into her mouth. The honeyed treat was delicious, but it could as well be bland and tasteless, for Jaina paid it no mind. All coherent thoughts left her when Sylvanas’ fingers brushed her lips.

Even after Jaina chewed and swallowed, the elf’s hand remained near her face. Barely touching, Sylvanas cupped Jaina’s cheek, her gaze still on the mage’s expression, still searching.

As if waiting for permission.

Jaina felt as if a certain force had been pulling her toward the elf ever since she sat next to her. Perhaps even before that, if the mage was being honest with herself, but only now did it manifest so strongly, so irresistibly. And only now did Jaina stop resisting it.

She leaned forward, and their lips met. Sylvanas let out a startled breath, before relaxing into the kiss — soft and hesitant, but no less wonderful for it. After a few seconds of gentle exploration, she moved her other hand behind Jaina’s neck and deepened it.

Jaina sighed contentedly when it happened and melted into Sylvanas. Soon, however, they had to break apart for air. As Sylvanas looked into the mage’s eyes again, she noticed that they seemed darker now and slightly hooded. Her pupils were dilated, and there was a delightful blush on her cheeks.

Sylvanas wasn’t born yesterday, she knew desire when she saw it. Emboldened by the sight, she moved her hand cupping Jaina’s cheek to the mage’s thigh, squeezing it slightly. At the same time, she leaned in again, capturing Jaina’s lips in a firmer, albeit shorter kiss, then moving to the corner of her mouth, and then to her jaw.

Jaina wasn’t idle as well. As her breathing became more labored and her sighs more audible, she ran her hands up Sylvanas’ arms, feeling the muscle beneath the thin clothing. When her hands came to their destination on the elf’s shoulders, the mage pulled her closer.

Sylvanas moved to Jaina’s neck sucking on the soft, perfect skin slightly and coaxing another sigh from the mage. The elf’s hand, all the while, was moving _up_ , lifting the hem of the mage’s robe along the way. As soon as it reached the mid-thigh, Jaina moved one of her hands as well, placing a palm on Sylvanas’ chest and fumbling with the buttons of her doublet. Her breath catching, Sylvanas moved lower, longing to kiss and bite the place where Jaina’s neck met her shoulder…

Suddenly, instead of a warm, tender flesh Sylvanas felt a cold metal under her lips.

She pulled away slightly and looked at the offending object. It was a platinum chain, _the_ chain of another elf’s token.

Sylvanas’ blood immediately ran cold.

“You’re still wearing this,” she murmured, frowning slightly. Jaina opened her eyes and blinked slowly. However, as soon as she realized what Sylvanas was looking at, the lustful haze she was in faded and the mage sobered.

“It’s… I…” she fumbled for words, unsure of what to say. She became so used to concealing her token that now her first instinct was to hide it. Her hand shot up, and she traced the chain with trembling fingers.

Sylvanas was watching her intently. “Do you…” her voice suddenly broke and she paused. A decisive general, an accomplished huntress, a predator — she was not used to feeling so uncertain, so vulnerable. “That Ranger… Do you still love her?” she finally managed to ask.

Jaina looked into her eyes. There. This was the moment she was waiting for. Sylvanas has finally come back to her, and now Jaina could tell her everything about their past, their relationship. Yet, the mage hesitated. There was no telling how Sylvanas would react to the truth. Perhaps, it was best not to say anything at all. To tell Sylvanas that her past was in the past and embrace this new relationship?

Alas, it took Jaina too long to decide. While she hesitated, Sylvanas felt a heavy feeling of rejection settle in her chest. For her, the mage’s silence could mean only one thing — that Sylvanas’ worst fears were confirmed.

“I see,” she muttered and stood up, ignoring a confused look Jaina sent her way. Sylvanas felt like the world tilted off its axis, but she managed to stay upright. Her heart hammered in her chest heavily, as if it wanted to crush her ribcage and tear itself out. Just a minute ago everything felt _right_ , she was in the arms of the woman she loved and who, she thought, loved her back… _Belore_ , what a fool she was!

Anger rose up in her, and Sylvanas strode toward the door.

“Sylvanas?” Jaina called from behind her. The elf stopped. “Where are you going?”

“To clear my head,” she answered, not turning around. “From now on I will leave you alone, Lady Proudmoore. I have no desire to stand between you and your… love.” She swallowed and lowered her head. “Even though I cannot understand what a dead elf could offer you that I couldn’t.”

With her back turned to Jaina, she couldn’t see the comprehension and horror on the mage’s face. She moved to the door.

“Sylvanas, wait!” Jaina desperately pleaded, scrambling to stand up. “You’ve got it all wrong!”

But before she managed to reach her, the elf was already gone.

* * *

Sylvanas was running through the forest, not quite seeing where she was going. Usually agile and light on her feet, now she barged through bushes and lower branches as a woman possessed. Sticks and leaves hit her in the face, but she kept rushing forward, trying to run away from her heartbreak, but even the pain from all the cuts and bruises couldn’t distract her from what had just happened.

She growled, pushing those thoughts away, and ran even faster.

After a few seconds — or maybe it was an eternity — Sylvanas heard familiar voices ahead. Her rangers. She realized she was about to run into a night patrol and instinctively turned to the side.

And then she kept running.

And running.

And running.

Suddenly, the forest ended. Sylvanas’ legs sank in the soft sand, and fresh breeze soothed her flushed and bleeding face. Her lungs were burning from exertion and suppressed sobs, and she panted, looking around. Realizing where her legs had carried her, she felt her chest constrict once again and let out a quiet whimper.

The inlet. She came to the inlet.

Her legs finally gave out, and she collapsed onto the beach, sobbing and hugging her knees. She didn’t remember the last time she felt so small or so helpless.

 _Belore_ , she was such a fool. Sylvanas shook her head and pressed her eyes closed, willing the tears not to fall, but they still ran down her cheeks. How could she allow herself to get so close to the woman that she _knew_ was promised to another? How could she pursue her, knowing full well there was someone else standing between them? Why didn’t she stop herself in time?

Why didn’t she stop herself before she fell in love with her?

Sylvanas threw her head back, and bit her lower lip painfully, forcing herself to stop crying, but a dull wail still tore from her chest. There was no denying this — somewhere between the moment she met Jaina in the dragon’s temple and the moment Sylvanas dared to kiss her tonight, she fell in love with the mage.

And that made the rejection nearly unbearable.

But that wasn’t even the worst thing. What made the matter worse was the fact that Sylvanas’ rival was some undead thing. A corpse. A cold, rotting monster. Someone who cared so little for Jaina that they chose to forget her and didn’t even bother mentioning their relationship in a letter to their living self. Sylvanas gritted her teeth, looking at the abyss that was the night’s sky above her. She was alive, she was warm and she was _there_ , willing to stay by Jaina’s side, to remember and cherish every moment they shared.

Yet Jaina still held on to the dead woman’s token.

Sylvanas didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t imagine coming back to the Spire, staying only a few rooms away from the woman who had hurt her so. She wanted to run away, and no place she could think of seemed far enough. Even if…

_Clank!_

She ducked and rolled to the side, just as something swished past her left ear. Her instincts, honed by the centuries of war, stayed alert even in such a distraught state and told her of the enemy’s presence a split second before a magical chain was cast in her direction. As it dissipated into a thin air, Sylvanas was already on her feet, the hunting knife she always carried with her pointing in the ambusher’s direction.

A foul necromantic aura she didn’t notice before assaulted her senses. A shriveled, half-rotten undead man stood before her. A human, as far as she could tell. At first Sylvanas thought the Scourge had returned to this land, but she quickly dismissed that thought. Her scouting party had checked the woods just recently, after all. Plus, there was far too much intelligence in the undead’s eyes, its movements far too purposeful.

In its hands the creature held two twin daggers that glistened in the starlight. Poison — paralytic or deadly, it was hard to tell. But there was no sign of the chain she was nearly ensnared by. Noting to be extra careful and avoid being cut, Sylvanas quickly darted her eyes around. There. In the bushes to the left of the first undead hid two more. And farther to the right were another three. Or were there more? Sylvanas couldn’t see them too well, but she thought at least two silhouettes suggested they were clad not in armor, but in robes.

Warlocks. Well, that at least explained how they got past the wards.

The situation was dire. There was no way Sylvanas could take down six or more undead, at least two of whom were warlocks, while armed only with her knife. Now, if she had her bow, it would be a whole other story, but as it were, any fight was hopeless.

Still, she didn’t really need to defeat them. All she needed was to get to the forest alive, and if the undead pursued her, she could loose them there before alerting the ranger patrol and calling for reinforcements.

The undead man took a step toward her, twirling his daggers, and Sylvanas tensed. However, as she prepared to lunge, a shadow flickered in a corner of her eye, and something heavy collided with her, tackling the elf to the ground.

As she fell, she was immediately pinned down by her wrists. A hooded figure she didn’t notice before loomed over her. How could she miss him? Who could have enough skill to sneak up on her unnoticed? Not being in a position to ponder those questions, Sylvanas began kicking and twisting in this new enemy’s grip. Suddenly she felt a pulse of magic coming somewhere from the direction of the warlocks, and shadowy bonds, remotely resembling a chain, secured themselves around her wrists, legs and torso, completely securing her to the ground.

Still, Sylvanas kept thrashing. She attempted to hit the attacker in the face with her head, and he abruptly jerked back, grunting in surprise. His hood fell. Sylvanas’ eyes widened in surprise and horror, and she faltered in her struggle.

“Nathanos,” she breathed, not believing her eyes. His skin was grey, his eyes glowed a menacing reddish yellow, and he looked slightly different from what he used to — but it was unmistakably _him_. The one and only human Ranger Lord. Her comrade. Her friend.

She would be happy to see him — undead or not — but for the situation they were currently in. Remembering what her sisters mentioned about this being — _Blightcaller_ it was apparently called these days — Sylvanas dreaded the reason he decided to ambush her.

Hearing his name, Nathanos smiled. The smile was almost gentle, but on his undead countenance it looked terrifying.

“Hello, my queen,” he spoke, leaning closer. That made Sylvanas pull herself together and redouble the efforts to free herself. However, her struggle was futile — the magical bonds didn’t give an inch. She was completely at Nathanos’ mercy.

“Don’t call me that!” she finally snapped, looking at him angrily.

Nathanos nodded. “Of course,” he said. “You’re not our queen… yet. You were weakened by those foul traitors — the dragons and the Alliance.” He shook his head. “Of course, I don’t blame you for your condition. You were misguided. I should have been more diligent in opposing them. I should have prevented it. I blame myself, and for that, my love, I ask forgiveness.”

Sylvanas flinched. _My love_? Where had that come from? Did she and Nathanos?.. The elf shook her head. No. That was not important. She had to get out of here, to convince Nathanos to let her go.

“If you wish my forgiveness, then release me,” she growled, yanking at the bonds. Once again, it did her no good.

Undead Ranger Lord chuckled.

“Of course. I will. But first…” he reached under his cloak and produced a small disk made of what looked like liquid glass. There was something inside of it, something small, and sharp, and glowing blue.

Something _cold_.

“Do you remember this?” asked Nathanos, holding the object right in front of her face. When Sylvanas shook her head, he sighed. “No, you wouldn’t. Those wretches did remove your memories after all. I can’t fix this,” he tried to stroke the side of her face at that, but Sylvanas jerked her head away, “but I can fix everything else that had been done to you.”

“I _wanted_ this,” Sylvanas spoke through clenched teeth. “I wanted to be alive again.”

“Oh, I’m sure they convinced you of this.” He nodded. “But you always trusted me to do what is best, my queen. And this is exactly what I’m going to do — what is best _for you_.” He hefted the translucent object in his hand. “This crystal contains a shard of Frostmourne — the cursed blade Arthas wielded. I had to steal it from Dalaran — it was quite an easy task, if I may be so bold so say. Much easier than stealing the Sands of Time from the bronze dragonflight.” He lifted his other hand, and Sylvanas saw something glimmering in his palm. “Now, using both these artifacts, I will be able to recreate the ritual that allowed you to reach perfection…”

Sylvanas felt an ice-cold fear gripping her insides.

“Perfection?” she hissed. “I was turned into a _monster_!”

Nathanos shook his head ruefully. “Oh, I wish I could get my hands on those who put these thoughts into your head.” Then he smiled gently. “But that’s alright. Once I’m done, we’ll hunt these worms together.”

Sylvanas’ heart hammered at the thought of what Nathanos would do to her friends, her sisters and, most importantly, to Jaina.

“You are mad!” She began thrashing, as he poured the Sands over her frame and then began slowly lowering the glass-encased shard of Frostmourne onto her chest. “Others will stop you even if I can’t!”

He stopped mid-motion, laughing. “Oh, they may try. But the Sands are going to take care of that problem. You see, my love, by using them, I added a small conundrum into the ritual, so now bronze dragons won’t be able to reverse your condition without causing a time paradox.” He sighed wistfully, shifting the shard in his grip. “As for those pesky mages — they could attempt to stop the ritual magically, but I took precautions against that as well.” He leaned as close to Sylvanas as he could and whispered into her ear. “Only someone who loves you more than I do can overcome the ritual’s cursed power.” He chuckled. “And I assure you, _no one_ loves you more than I do.”

His words felt like a punch to the gut for Sylvanas. Feeling tears welling up in her eyes, she squeezed them shut. She wouldn’t give this monster the satisfaction of seeing her breaking down. All she could think about was Jaina — someone she loved, someone who, possibly, loved her in return… but not more than she loved some undead ranger, who couldn’t even remember the mage and appreciate her love.

Nathanos said something else, but Sylvanas didn’t hear him. She didn’t want him in her thoughts. If she was about to die, at least she would die thinking about her beloved, seeing her in her mind’s eye.

Her eyes closed and her thoughts turned to Jaina, she didn’t see Nathanos shift, lowering the shard of Frostmourne onto her chest, right below her sternum. The cursed relic touched her… and Sylvanas felt as if her entire being was being torn apart.

She screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and now you can scream at me
> 
> P.S. Upped the rating just in case what happens with Sylvanas equals torture (which, I suppose, it does)


	4. Two Sides, One Whole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta-read, sorry for any and all mistakes. As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated

Jaina was pacing the balcony, wringing her hands and cursing her earlier hesitation. Tides, what was Sylvanas thinking right now? And where did she go? The mage came closer to the parapet. It was already dark outside, and she could barely see the line of the trees in the distance that Sylvanas had disappeared into.

Not being able to stand still even for a minute, Jaina began to pace once again. As soon as Sylvanas left, she wanted to rush after her. But knowing her beloved — both in undeath and in life now, — she decided that it was best if she allowed Sylvanas to cool off first, before explaining herself. Besides, it was difficult for a human mage to keep up with an elven ranger in the woods. So, she had to wait.

Still, she was beginning to worry. Was it wise to let Sylvanas storm off into the night like that? Sure, they cleared the remnants of the Scourge for miles around, and there hasn’t been a single encounter with them in weeks. Besides, there were rangers patrolling the forest, and Sylvanas herself was not defenseless.

Although, she _did_ look quite shaken when she was leaving…

Jaina finally decided to go fetch a ranger and ask them to quietly trail Sylvanas, to make sure she was alright. She moved to the door…

And a soul-crushing scream pierced the night. Jaina felt her blood running cold. She _knew_ that voice.

She didn’t remember how she grabbed her staff or how she ended up outside. Maybe she blinked? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that others — Nozdormu, Kalec and Alleria — were already there as well.

The screaming didn’t stop.

Alleria, pale as sheet, stared at Jaina.

“What is going on?” she demanded, her eyes full of worry. “It almost sounds like…”

“Sylvanas,” Jaina finished for her, feeling her stomach churn at the confirmation. “We argued, and then she left. Something must have happened to her, but I don’t know where she is!”

“I believe the scream is coming from the forest…” Kalec piped in, but before he even finished talking, Alleria already took off in this direction. Jaina ran after her. While normally she could never keep up with a Farstrider of Alleria’s caliber, she made up for their difference in speed with magic, blinking every now and then to close the distance. Several seconds later two shadows crossed over them — Nozdormu and Kalec changed into their true forms and took to the air.

Soon Jaina and Alleria burst into the forest. However, now it seemed as if the scream echoed amidst the trees, and they could not determine which direction in was coming from. So, they simply ran along the path to the village, hoping that they will soon find Sylvanas.

They didn’t go far. Less than a minute later they nearly collided with Anya and her ranger patrol, who were making haste _toward_ the Spire.

“What is happening?” Anya asked, her gaze searching the woods for any sign of threat.

“Did you see Sylvanas on your way here? Or anyone else?” Alleria demanded instead of answering. When Anya shook her head, the eldest Windrunner swore. “Damn it! Where in _Belore_ ’s name is she?”

Jaina felt a rush of panic, but before it managed to consume her, she heard Kalec’s voice in her head:

_Jaina! I’ve just felt a powerful pulse of necrotic energy coming from the west of your position! There’s a beach on the edge of the forest and what looks like…_

_The inlet!_ Jaina immediately knew where Sylvanas went and felt like a fool for not realizing it earlier.

“I know where she is!” she cried, already weaving the teleportation spell. “Be ready for anything!”

As soon as she locked in to their destination, she felt as if her entire being was pierced by hot needles. Someone — likely warlocks, for it felt like their foul magic, — placed wards around the place they needed to go to. But no meager warlock could withstand the fury of Jaina Proudmoore. Ignoring the pain, she put as much arcane into the spell as she could and powered through the barrier.

They materialized on a wide stony outcropping that rose above the inlet on the south. As soon as she was able, Jaina placed the protective wards around herself and her allies, and then took in the scene.

Her eyes immediately locked on to Sylvanas. She was lying on the ground, twitching and screaming, seemingly held in place by some wicked force. And next to her crouched a dark figure. Despite the distance Jaina immediately recognized him.

_Blightcaller._

Energy crackled around her as fury rose in her chest. Her eyes glowing, Jaina channeled the offensive spell into her staff. However, she didn’t get to unleash it. Being so focused on finding her beloved, she neglected to notice other threats that Nathanos had brought with him.

And they noticed the living.

The next second Jaina had to deflect a barrage of corrupting spells the three undead warlocks sent their way. After making sure the wave didn’t hurt anyone, archmage collected her own powers and began attacking them in turn. Several deathguards were already running toward their position, baring their daggers. However, they didn’t reach the mage and the elves, instead being felled by the rangers’ arrows.

By the time they were dealt with, however, Nathanos was already on his feet.

And his first arrow was already flying toward Jaina.

Anya reacted faster than the rest by throwing herself at the mage and pushing her out of the way. The Forsaken arrow hit the elf in the shoulder, and Anya cried out, immediately stumbling to the ground.

Enraged, Jaina tried to shoot an arcane bolt at Nathanos, but once again his warlocks drew her fire onto themselves. One of them almost immediately succumbed to archmage’s fury, but the rest still managed to hold on.

Suddenly two deafening roars shook the ground, and dragons descended from the clouds. Immediately discerning where the danger was, Kalec and Nozdormu split up. The Timeless One summoned a sandstorm that buffeted the remaining warlocks and broke their defenses. At the same time Kalec blew a narrow but powerful cone of cold at Nathanos, being careful not to catch Sylvanas with his attack. The cold itself couldn’t hurt the undead Ranger Lord, but it did throw him backwards and away from his victim. With a second breath, Kalec encased Nathanos in a thick brick of ice, immobilizing him and leaving only his head outside.

It was over in a few moments. As the rangers picked up their wounded Captain, Jaina and Alleria rushed to Sylvanas’ side. Dragons, after making sure it was truly safe, changed into their elven forms and also approached.

Sylvanas was lying on the ground, shaking uncontrollably, her eyes staring unseeingly into the sky. She was no longer screaming, but her eyes had lost their bluish glow, and her skin began to slowly turn gray.

“ _Belore_ preserve us,” Alleria whispered, kneeling next to her sister.

Not allowing herself to panic, Jaina moved closer to Sylvanas, but stopped short of touching her. The elf was emitting strong necrotic energies, that seemed to suck life out of everything around them and corrupt everything they touched.

Except… those energies weren’t really coming from Sylvanas. As Jaina’s eyes zeroed in on a small glass disc resting on the elf’s chest, she felt that this was the source of magic that tormented Sylvanas. The mage focused on it…

And gasped.

“Frosmourne,” she breathed, not quite believing her senses. Then fury rose within her, and she whirled onto Nathanos. “What did you _do_?!”

The Ranger Lord’s head was poking from the ice lump he was encased, and he threw it back in a fit of laughter.

“Oh, Proudmoore, what do you think?” he cackled, fixing her with a glare of his dead, glowing eyes. Eyes that were never capable of any emotion except hatred and contempt. “I’m bringing back the one you stole from us, the one you and your lizard friends conspired to destroy.”

Realizing it was no use to question him now, Jaina turned back to Sylvanas. Before she could come up with anything to help her, Kalec gently pushed the mage to the side and knelt near her.

“Here, let me,” he said, extending his hand over Sylvanas and enveloping the ice-encased shard with his magic. Then he rose to his feet. “I will go to the Nexus and try to contain the shard there.”

With that, he immediately teleported away. Jaina sensed the necrotic pulses fade… but whatever cursed process they had started inside Sylvanas didn’t stop. Jaina tried to cut the connection by herself, channeled as much arcane as she could to tear Sylvanas from the shard of Frostmourne, but it was all for naught.

Not knowing what else to do, Jaina turned to Nozdormu.

“Can you stop it?” she pleaded. “Reverse her condition as you did before?”

The Timeless One readily lowered himself near Sylvanas. His skirt immediately became stained by the dark ichor that was dripping from the dead warlocks lying around, but the dragon paid his garb no mind. However, as soon as he extended his magic toward the elf, he grimaced.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Lady Jaina,” he said, sounding concerned. “I sense that the Sands of Time were used in the creation of this curse. I fear, any attempts to reverse it would result in a catastrophe.” Another cackle from Nathanos confirmed the Timeless One’s words. “Perhaps, me and my flight can undo whatever conundrum was forced upon Lady Sylvanas, but it will take time…”

“And time is not something we have,” Alleria finished bitterly, her pained gaze never leaving her sister.

Nozdormu hummed thoughtfully. “Actually, we do.” He waved his hand, and Jaina felt time altering around Sylvanas.

“Did you stop time for her?” the mage asked hopefully, shuffling even closer to the elf.

The former Aspect shook his head ruefully.

“Not stopped, merely slowed. Still, it should give us a chance to think up a way to save the Ranger General. Before she turns again.”

“And how much time do we have?” Jaina pressed, her hand coming to rest on Sylvanas’ forearm and her fingers stroking the elf.

Nozdormu hesitated, thinking. Finally, he said, “A week? A month? Time magic is not exact, Lady Proudmoore. Much depends on Sylvanas’ resolve, as well as my power. But she will not succumb today, that I can guarantee.”

Jaina took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Alas, The Timeless One’s words didn’t alleviate her worries in the slightest, for every second Sylvanas remained under the spell was a second that Sylvanas suffered.

Still, the mage managed to get her thoughts under some semblance of control. While she couldn’t save her beloved right away, or ease her suffering, she _could_ devote her considerable brainpower to solve this task and break the curse.

But she wasn’t going to do that on a beach, surrounded by the dead Forsaken traitors.

Jaina raised her hands and summoned her powers, for the first time feeling how much the search and the battle took out of her. She understood that she needed rest and nourishment to replenish spent energy, but she also knew that she wouldn’t be able to either eat or sleep right now. Sighing, the mage enveloped everyone — including the rangers and ice-encased Nathanos — in her arcane and cast the teleportation spell.

They vanished from the beach and reappeared in the sitting room of Windrunner Spire. As soon as the transition was complete, Alleria scrambled to pick Sylvanas up and then gently carried her sister to the couch. Jaina immediately felt the loss of contact, when Sylvanas was moved away from her, but she didn’t come closer, instead looking at her beloved from the distance. As Alleria made sure Sylvanas was comfortable — at least as well as she could be, given the situation, — she sat next to her and began slowly stroking her sister’s hair, as if forgetting there was anyone else in the room.

Jaina — exhausted both physically and mentally — loathed to move, or to think, or to do anything but stare at Sylvanas’ limp form, but she forced herself to look away and assess the rangers’ condition. It seemed that besides Anya nobody else was hurt. The Ranger Captain’s pale face was scrunched up in pain, the arrow still sticking from her shoulder, but she was bearing everything well so far.

“Marrah, Alina,” Jaina addressed the other two rangers of the patrol, “can you, please, help Anya remove the arrow and cauterize the wound? The supplies are…”

“We know, Lady Jaina,” Marrah said quickly. “Will do.” After sending several worried glances at Sylvanas, rangers helped Anya out of the room.

Nozdormu cleared his throat.

“I can fly to the village to get a healer for the brave ranger,” he said, “but since her life isn’t in peril, I believe the first order of business is securing this—” he looked at Nathanos with disdain, “— creature. I would very much like to know how he came into possession of the Sands, and would absolutely hate it if he escaped before the interrogation.”

That made Alleria snap out of the grievous reverie that she was in. She whirled onto Nathanos, her entire form darkening as her Void powers manifested.

“Oh, he will be interrogated,” she said with a sinister promise in her words. “And he will talk. That I can guarantee you.”

“Do your worst, Void-wretch,” Nathanos growled, but everyone ignored him.

Instead, the Timeless One nodded, cautiously eyeing the rippling waves of the dark energy pouring off the eldest Windrunner. “Then, perhaps, you can show me where to move him? I’d like to set some wards to guard him before I set out.”

At that Alleria’s fury and darkness immediately dissipated and she turned to look at her sister worriedly. She was clearly reluctant to leave her side.

Seeing this, Jaina approached them and gently touched Alleria’s shoulder.

“I will stay with her,” the mage said quietly and Alleria glanced at her, still indecisive. “Go, make sure Blightcaller doesn’t escape.” Nathanos spat at the mention of his name, and Nozdormu quickly flicked his wrist, muting the rebellious Ranger Lord with a spell. Jaina sent the Timeless One a grateful look and then, after a moment of hesitation, turned back to Alleria. “And… I think you should send a word to Dalaran. To Vereesa.”

Alerria’s ears drooped at the mention of her little sister, and her gaze became even more pained. “Jaina, she… She will be devastated. She had already lost Sylvanas once to the powers of death… we both did, but Vereesa was _there_. She _suffered_ through all this before. I can’t make her go through that again.”

Jaina’s heart clenched at the thought of her friend and her history with Sylvanas, but she soldiered on.

“She is the head of the investigation in Dalaran,” the mage countered, her tone gentle but firm. “Sooner or later, she will know we’ve found the shard of Frostmourne, and it’s best she learns from us how it was used. And besides—” Jaina’s voice broke and a single tear rolled down her cheek, but she forced herself to voice this terrible thought that she’d just had, “—it could be Sylvanas’ last days, and her family should be here for her.”

A small whimper escaped Alleria’s lips, and the elf closed her eyes briefly, as if fighting an inner war with herself. Finally, she nodded, and with a last pained glance at her sister she rose and joined Nozdormu.

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice raw and low. “There are chambers in the lower levels of the Spire that we can use as a prison cell.” Then she briefly looked the Timeless One up and down — the dragon’s clothes were still stained by gore and ichor. “And I think it’s best we find something else for you to wear as well.”

With that she turned on her heels and briskly walked out of the room. Nozdormu weaved a simple spell, making the ice cube with Nathanos float behind him, and quickly followed the elf.

As soon as Jaina was left alone with Sylvanas, something crumbled within her. A strangled sob left her chest, and she nearly collapsed onto the couch next to Sylvanas, tears streaming down her face.

How long has it been since their dinner? An hour? Two at most? How quickly the perfect moment they had shared had turned first to heartbreak, and then to tragedy.

Jaina’s fists clenched and another whimper tore from her throat. It was all her fault, wasn’t it? She pushed Sylvanas away, she left her alone and broken, ripe for the taking by wretches like Nathanos. And now she was going to lose her again. This time forever.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” she whispered, stroking Sylvanas face. The elf’s skin had already turned ashen grey, and she looked so similar to her old Banshee self that it should have been at least a bit comforting to Jaina, but instead the mage felt desperation welling up within her. “I’m sorry I failed you,” she repeated.

Then, following an impulse, she placed a lingering kiss on Sylvanas’ forehead. A few of her tears felt onto the elf’s face as the mage moved lower and pressed her lips to Sylvanas’ next. She kissed her softly, gently, pouring all of her love into that simple gesture, willing all of her beloved’s suffering away.

Suddenly the air shifted around them.

The mage didn’t notice it at first, a subtle buzzing in the back of her skull, a barely there tingling of her senses. Then she felt a cold breeze rising, buffeting her reproachfully, and she leaned back from Sylvanas.

Her eyes widened.

The cold was _pouring out_ of the elf, dissipating in the air… along with the necrotic energies of Frostmourne. After it was completely gone, small glistening grains that Jaina recognized as the Sands of Time rose up from Sylvanas’ form and also vanished. The color was swiftly returning to her skin, and soon her breathing evened out. Not believing her eyes, Jaina first placed two fingers on the elf’s wrist, and then, not content with that, she pressed her ear to Sylvanas’ chest.

A measured, strong heartbeat was her reward.

Suddenly the mage heard some noise from the door, and as soon she turned, Alleria frantically ran into the room.

“What happened?” the eldest Windrunner asked, clearly distressed. “I felt the magics shift.” Then her gaze fell upon Sylvanas and her eyes widened. “What… Is she?..”

Jaina swallowed thickly.

“The curse,” she said, trying to stop her voice from trembling, but she was too tired to control in properly. “I think… I think it’s broken.”

In a blink of an eye Alleria moved closer and was kneeling next to the couch.

“But how?” she asked, astonished, also checking Sylvanas’ pulse and looking her sister over for any sign of lingering death magics or injuries.

“I don’t know,” Jaina said, and a sudden relief she felt at the realization that the worst had passed, made her dizzy. She tilted to the side, and Alleria caught her before she fell of the couch.

“I don’t know what you did or how you did it,” Alleria said, and the fact that usually stoic Windrunner’s voice was also trembling made Jaina feel a bit better, “and if Sylvanas is going to be okay, then… then I don’t really care.” She glanced at her sister again. “But why is she still unconscious?”

“I think she’s asleep. She should wake any moment now,” Jaina said, struggling to pull herself upright and nearly failing. Alleria noticed.

“You should get some sleep too, Jaina,” she said almost gently. “You must be deathly tired after everything that happened today.”

The mage knew that Alleria was right, but she frowned and tried to object.

“No… No, I need to stay. To make sure she’s alright when she wakes,” she gripped Sylvanas hand tightly, unwilling to let go.

Alleria smiled.

“She will be alright,” she promised, and even though the elf had no way of knowing if it would truly be so, Jaina believed her. “You _saved_ her, Jaina. _Belore_ , I don’t even have words to describe what you did. But, please, go now, take care of yourself. And I’ll take care of Sylvanas.”

Having no more power to argue, Jaina sent a last glance at Sylvanas — who was looking much better with each passing second — and then nodded. With the help of Alleria she got up to her feet, and, before retreating to her rooms, said,

“Please, Alleria, if anything goes wrong, or if you even suspect that something is wrong — wake me up.”

“I will,” promised Alleria, already taking Jaina’s place. “I promise.”

* * *

Sylvanas awoke with a start. As she gasped for air, the elf felt a couch — a _couch_?.. but she had just been on the beach… — dip beside her. She forced her eyes to open, but before she could focus, she saw a blurry flicker of gold in front of her.

“J-Jaina?” the elf ground out. As she tried to sit, however, she was gently pushed back down. Her vision slowly cleared, and instead of the mage she saw another dear face — Alleria’s.

“Easy, Lady Moon,” her sister said quietly, gently brushing a wet lock of hair from her sweaty forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“I…” Sylvanas paused, taking a moment to ascertain her condition. “I’m feeling well, actually.” She lifted her hand and palmed her chest where the cursed artifact had touched her. It didn’t hurt. In fact, aside from feeling a mild soreness in her limbs, Sylvanas was absolutely alright. Healthy. And alive. Still, remembering the pain she’d felt and what had happened, Sylvanas shot up in her bed, ignoring Alleria’s protests. “Nathanos! He… He attacked me! He’s going to try and…”

“And do nothing.” Alleria said with a steel in her voice. “He’s chained in the basement right now, and the Timeless One is setting up wards as we speak. He cannot escape, and no matter what happens now, his fate is sealed.”

Then the eldest Windrunner’s face softened, and she wanted to say something else, but suddenly a voice called out from the door.

“Well, this is a surprise.” Sylvanas turned her head and saw Nozdormu and Kalec walking in. The blue dragon looked as usual, if a bit tired, while the bronze for some reason decided to forego his usual skirt and wore a red sin’dorei magister robe instead. The Timeless One’s eyes quickly glanced over Sylvanas, and he hummed thoughtfully. “I was just having the most riveting conversation with our captive when I’d felt the change. As I can see, your curse has been miraculously lifted, Lady Windrunner.” His hand flashed gold as he reached toward Sylvanas, arcane pulsing around him. “Most curious,” he finally stated, lowering his hand. “Perhaps you can tell us how that happened?”

Sylvanas paused. “I… have no idea,” she admitted after a moment and glanced askance at Alleria. The eldest Windrunner shrugged, looking just as lost.

“I don’t know how, but the curse was broken by the Lord Admiral.”

“Jaina?” Kalec suddenly blurted from where he stood near the door. “But… how? She is a very powerful mage, but the sheer force required to undo such powerful magics is… astronomical. She couldn’t have possessed it, she’s only mortal.”

Nozdormu shook his head slowly at that, humming softly.

“You’re forgetting, Kalecgos, that mortals can sometimes possess the most powerful force in the universe,” The bronze dragon spoke, his tone wistful. Kalec glanced at him, confused, but the Timeless One was staring directly at Sylvanas. “And I do find it curious, that our undead captive has been claiming that he alone possessed such power. Quite a mad statement, if you ask me, but it does make one wonder…”

Sylvanas frowned. Something nagged at her memory, something connected to what Nozdormu said… What was he implying? What force would be great enough to circumvent both time and death magics? As Sylvanas pondered that, she remembered what Nathanos had told her right before she was consumed by pain.

_Only someone who loves you more than I do can overcome the ritual’s cursed power._

If Jaina managed to lift the curse… then…

Sylvanas’ eyes widened in comprehension. Seeing this, Nozdormu smiled warmly and nodded in satisfaction.

“Well, I’m glad this tragedy is averted,” he said, clasping his hands if front of him. “I suppose I’ll go back to the pitiful creature that had started this mess. I still need to figure out how he managed to steal the Sands of Time from us.” He glanced at Kalec. “Will you join me, my young friend?”

Kalec nodded, but before dragons departed, Alleria called out, “Wait, Kalecgos, but what about the shard of Frostmourne?”

The dragon looked at her. “I have placed it in one of the arcane prisons inside the Nexus,” he explained, “and set our strongest wards to guard it.” Sighing, he added, “I suppose now Jaina and I will have to gather the Council of Six to decide what to do with it. But… tomorrow. Everyone needs their rest now.” He glanced in the direction that led to Jaina’s room, then shook his head, as if dismissing some thought, nodded to Alleria and Sylvanas, and left the room. Nozdormu followed him.

Silence fell between the two sisters. After a short while, Alleria reached for Sylvanas and began gently threading her fingers through the younger elf’s hair. Sylvanas leaned into Alleria slightly, her eyes half-closed. Despite the exhaustion and the soothing touch of her sister, Sylvanas’ mind was racing with thoughts. _Jaina loved her_. Even if Sylvanas had doubts after their first kiss and after seeing Jaina’s hesitation, they were gone now. Still, the elf couldn’t comprehend, why Jaina hesitated in the first place. Could it be that she loved Sylvanas while still loving her Ranger? Was it even possible? Sylvanas mentally scoffed. Of course, it wasn’t possible. Unless…

Her eyes shot open at the sudden realization.

Could it be that _she_ was the Ranger?

Her pulse picking up, Sylvanas tried to recall everything Jaina had said when she revealed she was promised to a Dark Ranger. In fact, Sylvanas remembered that Jaina _didn’t_ say it. She was silent while the rangers were connecting the dots and coming to a conclusion that the mage used to be courted by one of them.

Yet, when they began approaching her, she refuted all of their advances. All… except Sylvanas’.

The elf blinked. All this time she thought she was pursuing Jaina as someone else’s rival, but in reality… that rival was _herself_.

_Unless, I’m mistaken and reading the situation all wrong again_ , Sylvanas thought sourly. _I need to talk to Jaina._

Before the doubt could creep in again, Sylvanas grunted and tried to sit, much to Alleria’s annoyance.

“You need to rest,” the eldest sister urged, trying to push Sylvanas back again.

“I need to talk to Jaina.” Sylvanas’ voice sounded hoarse and she cleared her throat.

Alleria frowned, her hand still firm on Sylvanas’ shoulder. “Can it not wait until morning? Jaina needs her rest almost as badly as you do.”

“It’s…” Sylvanas hesitated, but the continued with conviction. “No. No, it can’t. Lady Sun, just before the attack, I made a terrible mistake and possibly said something utterly stupid to her. I must set it right.”

_I shouldn’t have given up on her in the first place._

Alleria hummed. “It couldn’t have been that bad, or Jaina wouldn’t have been so distraught during our search for you.” Then she suddenly frowned. “We probably wouldn’t have gotten to you in time if not for her, you know,” she murmured. “I thought… I thought I was going to lose you a second time. A second time that I wasn’t around to protect you.”

Sylvanas took her sister’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

“But you _were_ around. And you saved me. You and Jaina.” Despite wanting to make sure her sister wouldn’t blame herself for what happened, Sylvanas gave her impatience away by glancing in the direction of the living rooms. Alleria noticed and snorted.

“And here I thought we were having a moment,” she drawled, reclining back onto the couch. “Fine, go,” she said, waving her hand. “I know I can’t stop you. Go and talk to your lady love.” When Sylvanas shot her an annoyed glare, Alleria quirked an eyebrow. “What? Are we still ‘not talking about it’ and pretending that you two aren’t completely smitten with each other?”

“That’s!..” Sylvanas began indignantly, but then trailed off and her ears wilted. “That’s actually one of the things that I need to speak to her about.”

Alleria’s smirking expression softened. “Then go to her,” she urged the third time, before her eyes sparkled with mischief again. “Just get some rest afterwards, both of you. No _strenuous activity_ , you hear me? Eldest sister’s orders.”

Sylvanas swore and shoved her sister in the shoulder.

* * *

Jaina stared at the ceiling. Despite the exhaustion she felt in every cell of her body, she couldn’t sleep. Every second the mage expected something to go wrong, for shouts to rise from the hall or for Alleria to come knocking at her door and telling her that something terrible has happened…

Suddenly there _was_ a knock on her door.

Jaina’s heart plummeted down as she shot up from the bed.

“Come in!” she said loudly, standing up and preparing for the worst. After a moment that seemed to stretch forever, the door opened.

Jaina almost felt dizzy from relief. “Sylvanas.”

The mage gave her a quick once-over. The elf seemed to be in a much better shape than she was on the beach, although she did look as tired as Jaina felt. And there was a curious expression on her face, as her glowing blue eyes scanned the mage.

Sylvanas took a hesitant step into the room and stopped. Silence stretched between them, neither daring to speak. Finally, the elf said,

“I am the one who gave you the token, aren’t I?”

Jaina’s eyebrows rose. It wasn’t a question she had been expecting, but, remembering how Sylvanas misunderstood her silence earlier in the night, she immediately blurted,

“Yes.” Then, after allowing a moment for the word to sink in, “I’m sorry, Sylvanas. I never meant to hurt you, or, Tides forbid, reject you. I should have told you earlier, and I should have known how it would look from your perspective…”

She trailed off, seeing as Sylvanas nodded to her words. They stood in silence for a few moments, Jaina resisting the urge to wring her hands nervously. All this time Sylvanas studied the mage, while her own face was blank and completely unreadable, which only made Jaina feel more uneasy.

Finally, the elf took another step forward. She hesitated for a second, and then extended her hand.

“May I see it?” she asked, suddenly looking away from the mage. For some reason, the request made Jaina even more anxious. Her hands trembling, she reached behind her neck, unclasped the platinum chain and gently placed the token in Sylvanas’ palm.

Sylvanas’ eyes widened as she stared at it. Some part of her expected to be wrong, to find out that Jaina in fact _was_ promised to someone else. But right there in her hand the elf held an irrefutable evidence — a triangular platinum arrowhead with ornamental etchings: her family designs as well as her own. Sylvanas envisioned this token since her youth, since the day she made a silly wish at the Dalaran fountain to be wed with her sisters. She had never made one, never met anyone she would want to mark like that… except, it seems, at some point in her undeath she did.

“Me… The Banshee. You really were with her,” Sylvanas said, her voice disbelieving.

“Yes,” Jaina answered. “And I truly should have told you sooner. I never meant for you to feel that there was someone else between us.” The mage smiled warmly. “Now you know that there isn’t.”

Sylvanas suddenly frowned at that. She came to make things right with Jaina, to make sure nothing was unspoken or unclear between them anymore… yet she realized that one thing still was.

“That’s not quite true isn’t it?” she quietly spoke and looked up at the confused mage. “I’m not her,” she clarified. “I don’t have her memories. I don’t have what she and you shared. I don’t even…” The elf shook her head, before continuing, “Tell me, Jaina, what do you really want? Me… or a memory of what I was?” After a second of silence, she added almost in a whisper. “Do you even know yourself?”

Sylvanas regretted those words the instant Jaina’s expression turned pained.

“Sylvanas…” she said, taking a step toward her, but the elf had already raised her hand, and Jaina halted.

“Forgive me…” Sylvanas said. “I know this isn’t fair to you. But it’s just too much to process. I just… I need to wrap my head around… everything.”

She stood there for a second and then turned to leave, but Jaina grabbed her by her arm, the mage’s eyes wide and worried.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Sylvanas chuckled.

“I’m not running away again,” she promised with a sad smile. “I won’t even leave the Spire. We both need to rest and… to think. We’ll talk soon, I promise.”

Jaina was clearly reluctant to let her go, but when the elf tugged her arm gently, she let it go.

Only when the door closed behind Sylvanas did the mage realize that the elf took the token with her.

* * *

Sylvanas did not go to her room. Despite what she had told Jaina about the need to rest, she felt that the nervous energies coursing under her skin would keep her up even if she tried to sleep. So, she went to the closest balcony to soothe her nerves with some stargazing and fresh air.

Deep in thought, she leaned against the railing. Recalling the events that happened since her resurrection, she marveled at how blind she was. Jaina was there, when Sylvanas was being revived. Jaina was the one who had passed on the Banshee’s letter to her — which should have been a dead giveaway as to how much the Banshee trusted the mage. Jaina was hurt — not just mad, _hurt_ , — when Sylvanas was unjustly shifting all the blame in the world onto her. And, finally, Jaina had accepted hers, Sylvanas’, courting, while rejecting every single other ranger. All along the mage had been waiting for Sylvanas — her beloved — to return to her.

And she did.

Except, Sylvanas mused, tracing her thumb over the token she took from Jaina, she wasn’t really the same person, was she? Sure, there was no doubt now that Jaina loved her — after all, the mage wouldn’t be able to break the curse otherwise. But the elf still wondered if Jaina loved _her_ , or if she simply saw the remains of the Banshee in her.

She shook her head, huffing irritably. What a mess. The last thing she wanted was to be _her own rival_. Not to mention that it was pretty difficult to rival with the dead.

Now, if only she could have memories of her undead life…

Sylvanas frowned, trying to recall what was it that dragons had told her and her rangers about the ritual. After everyone had been reversed, former Aspects and Dalaran mages had given the restored elves and humans a rundown on what was done to them and why they couldn’t remember anything from the time after their death. But Sylvanas didn’t remember much of what was said — most of the time she was busy glancing at a certain mage, and didn’t pay enough attention to the dragons.

Perhaps, it was time to remedy this woeful ignorance of hers.

Remembering that Nozdormu went to guard Nathanos, Sylvanas took the stairs to the lower levels. As soon as she entered the first room, she surveyed it with her eyes.

There was another door in there, just opposite from the one Sylvanas had just walked in. On the left from it stood a table with two chairs. Kalec and Nozdormu were sitting in them and quietly chatting.

“Ah, Lady Windrunner,” Nozdormu said when he noticed her. “I expected you would be resting after such an… eventful night. What brings you here?”

Sylvanas stopped in front of the dragons, clasping her hands behind her. When Kalec moved to offer her a seat, she stopped him with a wave of her hand and remained standing. She was unsure on how to proceed.

“I… was hoping you could tell me about the ritual that gave me my life back,” she began. When she looked at Nozdormu, however she had a feeling he knew exactly what she wanted to ask him. His eyes were narrowed, and a small smile played on his lips.

Yet he said only, “What exactly do you wish to know?”

Wondering if she read him wrong or if he was being deliberately difficult, Sylvanas spoke, “I was wondering why this ritual had also removed memories of our unlife.”

Nozdormu sighed. “Because the entire ritual’s purpose was to rewind time for your mortal shell as well as your soul to the point you were at right before your death. And since your past self couldn’t have those memories at the point of your death, neither can you.” He spoke with a bored tone of a person who’d been telling this line forever, but people kept forgetting it. Which, Sylvanas mused, was probably true — even if he did explain it before, she couldn’t remember it now. Yet, Sylvanas was irritated by his demeanor, for in the bronze dragon’s eyes she read something else: _Is this really the question you wanted to ask?_

Still not quite understanding what the Timeless One was playing at, she finally asked, “And is there any way to restore them?”

Nozdormu’s smile widened a fraction.

“Good question,” he said, pretending to think it over. Sylvanas crossed her arms, annoyed by his theatrics, and he continued, “Ah, if only there was some device that could store people’s memories and then allow their owners to relive them.”

Kalec, who was silently listening to their conversation, furrowed his brow. “Well, there’s that relic Tyr left to us…” He meant an ancient artifact that the titan keeper Tyr used to store memories of five original Aspects, so they could relive them at a later time. Then the blue dragon seemingly realized what the Timeless One was hinting at and his eyes widened. “Nay, Nozdormu! You cannot do this! She was the _Banshee Queen_! What if, after her memories are back, she becomes her again?”

“Did you become Malygos when you lived through his memories, young Kalec?” Nozdormu objected, his tone chiding, and the former Aspect of Magic hung his head, shaking it slowly. “She will merely become a Ranger General, who remembered her time as the Banshee Queen.” Then he turned to Sylvanas with a knowing spark in his eye. “And, I believe, there were some things worth remembering, correct?”

“Yes,” Sylvanas said firmly, suddenly feeling relieved that she was no longer being played with.

However, Nozdormu’s countenance suddenly turned serious.

“But were they worth reliving all the pain that you had suffered?” he quietly asked. “This artifact that Kalec speaks of was not designed to be gentle. It will show you _every_ aspect of your key memories. Your every emotion, every thought included. Every second of agony will be inflicted on you anew. Are you sure you wish to relieve it all again?”

Sylvanas’ face darkened, but the Timeless One’s words didn’t deter her in the slightest.

“I already relieved it today,” Sylvanas spoke through her clenched teeth, thinking back to the agony she endured while under influence of the cursed shard.

“And what of your family?” the Timeless One continued, cocking his head to the side. “Everything you’ve done to your sisters, everything they’ve done to you — are you certain you wish to remember _that_? To risk your relationship strain again?”

That question gave Sylvanas some pause. Would the Banshee’s memories corrupt the bond she shared with her sisters? Could all the grievances that the Queen of the Forsaken held against Alleria and Vereesa turn her against them once again?

But then she remembered the letter that the Banshee had sent to her, the one Jaina had passed on. Her undead self didn’t give too many details as to what exactly happened between the sisters, but Sylvanas did get the feeling that the Banshee regretted how things were between them, and wanted to mend this rift.

And if it was truly so… then, perhaps, she could have both — her memories and her sisters.

“No,” she firmly said. “I won’t let anything get between me and my family. Not again.”

Nozdormu stared at her for a moment longer and then nodded.

“Very well,” he stood up, ignoring Kalec’s torn expression. “Now that that’s settled, I need to make a short trip to the past. To get a copy of your memories from your past self.” When Sylvanas looked at him with a confused expression, he flashed her a smile. “Don’t think about it, you’ll understand what I’m talking about soon enough.”

He raised a hand, clearly wanting to teleport away, but Kalec stopped him.

“Nozdormu, wait!” the blue dragon pleaded. “Are you certain that you should do this?”

Sylvanas frowned and prepared to tell the former Aspect off, but Nozdormu spoke first.

“I’m certain that I cannot _not_ do this, young Kalec,” he said gently, “for I have already seen in happen. Is there any particular reason you think I should break the true timeway, hmm?”

Kalec wilted a bit under his gaze. “No, Timeless One,” he said sadly. “Please, forgive me. Proceed as you must.”

Nozdormu nodded at that and disappeared in a flurry of sand… only to reappear a few seconds later in the same manner. In his hands he now held a strange metallic disc.

“Please, Lady Windrunner,” Nozdormu said, pulling out a chair for her. “Sit. It will be easier this way.”

Sylvanas did as he asked, but she kept glancing at the artifact worriedly. Kalecgos remained where he was, crossing his arms. He looked unhappy to see the relic. Nozdormu, however, paid him no mind as he set the disk on the table and took a step back.

When he didn’t say or do anything else, Sylvanas opened her mouth to ask what she was supposed to do now, but at the same moment the artifact began to glow white. As the elf looked at it, transfixed, the glow spread to her. Before she could say anything, or even begin to worry, the world around her suddenly disappeared, and for a moment she was plunged into darkness.

And then she remembered…

_Cruel eyes mocking her and a cursed blade striking in her chest… the unbearable pain and her screams…_

_Breaking free and almost having her revenge, only to be thwarted…_

_Hunting for humans… Hunting for dreadlords…_

_Hunting for Dar’Khan…_

_Joining the Horde…_

_Hunting for Arthas — the new Lich King…_

_Betrayal at the Wrath Gate and the siege of the Undercity that followed…_

_The defeat of the Lich King… Jumping off the Icecrown…_

_The cold embrace of the Maw… Covenant with the Val’kyr_

_Speaking against Garrosh Hellscream… fighting in his hateful war…_

_Meeting Vereesa at Hellscream’s trial…_

_Another betrayal… both hers and Vereesa’s…_

At his point, despite the magic of the artifact still holding her, Sylvanas let out a small whimper, so intense were the memories of pain and rage that she felt that day. Dragons looked at her in shock — that was not supposed to happen — but when Kalec moved to help her, Nozdormu stopped him. They kept watching, and in a few seconds this memory passed, and the new one began.

_The Broken Shore… Becoming a warchief…_

_Hearing news of Alleria’s return… Succumbing to this new hope…_

_Their trip to the Spire and the final fallout… leaving her sisters… leaving her necklace…_

_She was alone, so, so alone…_

And then…

_Silver hair with a golden streak, blue eyes glowing with raw arcane power. A barrage of spells, and a solitary mage — **the** mage — fighting an uneven battle with a small horde of demons…_

_And falling under their attacks…_

_Except, Sylvanas doesn’t let her perish. After all, it would be a disservice to Azeroth to let Jaina Proudmoore die…_

_Defeating those demons and bringing the wounded mage to a safe place…_

_The mage coming to it and, even in her half-dead state, nearly levelling everything around her… only agreeing on receiving help from the warchief of the Horde after she collapsed from exhaustion a second time…_

_Mutual mistrust…_

_Mutual sniping…_

_Begrudging respect… Admiration…_

_Desire… Also mutual, apparently…_

_Late night rendezvous behind other leaders’ backs…_

_Another war brewing… Warning Jaina about her plans to strike first… Asking her to warn the night elves so that unnecessary deaths could be avoided…_

_Warning Jaina about Anduin’s approach on Loraderon… Watching her defend her ‘nephew’ and her friends…_

_Lowering the wards so that Jaina, Alleria and the rest could escape Lordaeron unscathed…_

_Finally managing to form a truce with the Alliance…_

_Giving Jaina the token… Exchanging promises…_

_Fighting alongside Jaina against Azshara… Then against N’Zoth…_

_Finally — peace… The Alliance and the Horde cautiously working together… Jaina working alongside Sylvanas to make it possible…_

_Jaina in Sylvanas’ arms…_

_The bronze courier and the late-night letter…_

_The ritual…_

_Jaina…_

The glow of the artifact slowly ebbed, and finally, it released the elf. Blinking a few times, Sylvanas tore her gaze away from the relic and looked around, as if in a daze. After a few seconds she got her grip on reality and remembered that she was not alone.

“…told you we shouldn’t do this! What if it broke her?”

“Stop fretting, my young friend. It didn’t break you, me, Alexstrasza or Ysera.”

“We’re _dragons_. And we didn’t relive a dozen years of our lives! Only a few months.”

“Shush. I think she’s coming back to us.” Sylvanas’ gaze locked on to an elven figure in the traditional red sin’dorei robes. After a moment, she recognized Nozdormu… as well as his current garb.

_A flurry of sand, a mirror of the Timeless One stepping out of it._

_“Wait until she asks you to do that.”_

“Ah,” Sylvanas breathed, blinking the last of fuzziness away. “So _that’s_ what I was supposed to ask you.”

Nozdormu’s expression slowly dissolved into a smile.

“Welcome back, warchief,” he quietly said, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

Sylvanas frowned a bit at that, her entire elven being outraged at being called that. Despite having Banshee’s memories now, despite knowing everything she did and _why_ she did it, she still felt somewhat disconnected from that persona. As if everything that happened to her during that time happened to someone else.

Mulling over those confusing thoughts, Sylvanas slowly replied, “No… Not warchief.”

At that the Timeless One’s smile turned into a wide grin and Kalec seemingly relaxed.

“Just as I suspected,” before Sylvanas could ask, what he meant by that, Nozdormu’s eyes narrowed in concern and he asked, “Are you feeling well? The artifact didn’t shake you too much, did it?”

Sylvanas shook her head. “No,” she said carefully. “It is a bit overwhelming, but no. I am alright.” Despite the need to wrap her mind around the entirety of what she’d just experienced, Sylvanas realized that she was truly fine. Fine and feeling… whole.

“Good,” Kalec spoke up, looking mightily relieved. Sylvanas wondered what he was worrying about and why, but the blue dragon kept talking. “I know from personal experience how harrowing these memories can be. You should take some rest and allow yourself some time to… sort things out.”

Sylvanas nodded, her gaze wandering away from the dragon…

And falling upon the door he and Nozdormu were guarding.

_Nathanos._

Anger rose within Sylvanas’ chest. Her own anger at seeing her trusted friend reduced to this insane monstrosity, and the Banshee Queen’s fury at being betrayed by her most faithful champion.

_It seems my undead self and I have something in common after all,_ Sylvanas passingly thought. Sensing her both selves’ desires align for the moment, she stood up.

Dragons both took a step back, giving her space and glanced at her — Kalec warily and Nozdromu with concern. Not tearing her gaze from the door, Sylvanas said,

“Timeless One, Spell-Weaver, may I speak with the _Ranger Lord_? In private?”

Her tone, even lacking the banshee echoes, was pure Banshee Queen — icy, scathing, deadly. Two former Aspects glanced at each other, and then Nozdormu turned to Sylvanas, answering neutrally,

“Of course, you may speak with him. But surely you don’t mind if we’ll be present, do you?”

Sylvanas finally looked away from the door and stared at the Timeless One, frowning. When the serene expression on his face didn’t change, she bared her teeth a bit but then changed her mind and sullenly nodded.

“Very well.”

Glancing askance at Nozdormu one last time, Kalec sighed and weaved a simple spell that unlocked and opened the door. Without waiting for an invitation, Sylvanas strode in, Nozdormu following closely behind.

The room was dark, barely illuminated by a single bluish magelight hovering under the ceiling. The sparse lighting cast grim shadows around Nathanos, who was standing on his knees in the middle of the room, his back bent, his arms chained to the walls and stretched to the sides. His head was lowered too and he didn’t lift it when the creaked and opened.

“Nathanos,” Sylvanas hissed, filling this one word with all the fury she felt.

His head jerked up, his eyes landing on Sylvanas and immediately widening.

“No… No!” he cried, his undead features contorted in anguish. “You’re still alive… It cannot be! How…” his gaze then fell on the Timeless One, who leaned against the left wall, and his eyes flared brighter. “You! You undid the curse! But… how? I accounted for everything! Everything!!” he hung his head low and wailed lowly. “My Queen… I’m so sorry, I failed you again.”

Baring her fangs, Sylvanas grabbed the front on his leather cuirass and lifted the chained Ranger Lord in the air. She wanted to look him in the eyes for this.

“Yes, you did, traitor,” she spat through her teeth. “I told you it was my wish to reverse my condition, I ordered you to take care of my Forsaken, I _trusted_ you to do this… and this is what you did? Conspired to _murder_ me, to _torture_ me, to force me into the very existence I tried to escape?” She shook him. “What do you have to say for yourself, _Champion_?”

Instead of continuing with his pitiful sobbing, his eyes went wide as saucers and he stared at Sylvanas, his mouth agape.

“You… remember,” he whispered with something akin to an awe in his voice. “You actually remember.” With that he suddenly let out a surprised laugh. “I admit, I did not foresee this outcome, but… I’m so happy you’re back, _my Queen_...”

Sylvanas growled and in a surprising show of strength threw Nathanos against the wall. The chains strained as he hit it and slid down, hanging from them, and the Ranger Lord grunted, seemingly in pain.

“You betrayed me,” Sylvanas hissed, “and you _dare_ to call me your Queen after that?” She strode toward the slumped form of the Forsaken Lord and stopped short of kicking him. “I should _unmake_ you for this…”

Suddenly, a thought came to her mind, and she whirled toward Nozdormu.

“Timeless One,” she said, trying to rein in her anger and make her voice sound calm, “may I ask you another favor?”

Nozdormu was watching the entire scene with a disapproving frown on his face.

“You may ask, just as I may refuse,” he carefully spoke.

“Is it possible for you to conduct another ritual?” she asked, her voice cold. “I believe, there’s one more Forsaken that _terribly_ needs it.”

Nathanos jerked at that, looking at her worriedly, and the frown on the Timeless One’s face deepened.

“You very well know that we do not force people through such changes, _Ranger General_ ,” the dragon said angrily. Sylvanas blinked at the way he addressed her, but if there even existed a small part of her that was aghast at the Ranger General’s current union with the Banshee, she quickly shut it up. She was dealing with a traitor, and there could be no mercy. Not to mention that this particular traitor managed to piss off _both_ of her selves. “And I will not allow this ritual to become an instrument of your vengeance! It was created to save lives, not to take them away.”

She smiled wryly, the Banshee’s cunning coming to a forefront again.

“Oh, but you _will_ be saving him,” she promised in a semi-amused drawl. “If he remains as he is now, he’s done for. Either I kill him, or my rangers, or Alleria… Even if we give him to the Horde to pass judgement, he’ll be executed in a few days, his soul rotting forever in the Maw.” She chuckled without mirth. “Actually, maybe I _should_ wait for the Horde’s judgement then.” She paused for a second. “Or you and your kin could revert him and give him another chance.”

Nozdormu paused, studying her. He clearly did not anticipate to be put in such position, to have his virtuous nature turned against him. Pressing his lips into a tight line, he said, “I already told you, I cannot guarantee if it will be him on the other side or…”

“…or his cousin, whom I used to restore his flesh. I know,” Sylvanas finished for him. “And I’m still telling you — even if the worst is to come to pass, his fate is sealed either way.”

Nozdormu stared at her some more. Finally, he deflated, let out a long sigh and nodded unhappily.

“Very well. I’ll need to ask my flight for help, but we will do as you ask.” His gaze clearly conveyed the unspoken _Even if we do not agree with this course of action_. After a second of hesitation, he added, “May we delay this until morning? I still need to figure out how he came into possession of the Sands of Time.”

Sylvanas frowned, but she reluctantly nodded. For a moment she wondered if Nozdormu will try and whisk Nathanos away or help him escape, but then she dismissed that thought. The dragons were the defenders of Azeroth first and foremost, and the former Aspect wouldn’t dare to strain his kind’s relationships with every other faction in the world by harboring or setting the insane undead Lord loose upon them.

“Of course,” she said, her anger finally beginning to ebb away, and exhaustion of today’s events settling in. Apparently, Nozdormu also sensed the shift, because his expression changed to the one of concern, and he stepped closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“You should rest, Lady Windrunner. It’s been a long day.”

“I…” her thoughts were beginning to become sluggish, but she knew she still needed to speak to Jaina. “I need to…”

“Sleep,” the Timeless One repeated firmly. “You need to sleep.” He steered her toward the exit. “Go. I’ll come to you in the morning and tell you of the progress with the Ranger Lord.”

Deathly tired and no longer feeling it in herself to argue, she nodded, and walked to the door.

“My Queen,” Nathanos suddenly spoke up, his voice small but quickly becoming louder, “my Queen, please, don’t do this! I only did what was best for you! Sylvanas! Sylvanas, please!!!”

The door slammed close and cut his desperate pleas. Sylvanas sighed and moved to the upper levels. In a daze, she reached her bedroom, and as soon as her head touched the pillow, she was asleep.

* * *

The next morning Sylvanas woke up because someone was gently shaking her shoulder. When she opened her eyes, she saw Nozdormu.

“My apologies, Lady Windrunner,” he spoke softly, “I knocked, but you didn’t hear.”

Sylvanas grunted, sitting on the bed and rubbing her eyes. Looking at the window, she realized the sun had long since rose.

“It’s alright,” she said, standing up. “I should have gotten up hours ago anyway.” Then she looked at the Aspect questioningly. “Has something happened, Timeless One?”

The dragon shook his head.

“No. I have summoned my flight, and they are ready to begin Nathanos Marris’ ritual.” Sylvanas flinched when Nozdormu called Nathanos by his human name, and the bronze definitely noticed it. “Perhaps, you wish to reconsider your decision, now that you’ve slept on it?”

Sylvanas took a deep breath. Since she’d just woken up, she didn’t have time to reflect on that. But as the elf examined her feelings, she realized that nothing had changed. Nathanos’ betrayal struck deeply, and became even more painful now that she had Banshee’s memories. The remembered, that she wasn’t the _most trusting_ person in undeath, yet Nathanos was definitely her _most trusted_ champion and the closest thing to a family she allowed herself to have after falling out with her sisters.

Yet he disobeyed her, attacked her and tried to force her into existence that even the Banshee Queen loathed. This Sylvanas couldn’t forgive.

“No,” she said firmly. “You should proceed with the ritual.”

Nozdormu looked mildly annoyed at that. “He might _die_ , Lady Windrunner,” the dragon implored in his last attempt to change her mind.

Sylvanas crossed her arms, “I already told you, he’s going to die if you _don’t_ put him through this. And if you do, there’s still a chance that he’s going to survive; and then he’ll be considered innocent and _live_.” She shrugged. “That’s the biggest mercy I can offer him for what he did.”

Nozdormu sighed, clearly disagreeing with her concept of mercy, but then simply nodded. With a gesture he invited her to follow him. Together, they descended to the lower levels of the Spire.

Several bronze dragons already awaited them there for the ritual.

* * *

Nathanos didn’t survive.

Sylvanas was sitting at the table, staring at a single spot on it and trying to process that information. After Nozdormu emerged from the room where Nathanos had been held captive and where dragons decided to hold the ritual, Sylvanas glimpsed a figure inside that looked much like her old friend, but wasn’t him. Through her own memories, as well as the Banshee’s, she recognized paladin Stephon Marris — Nathanos’ cousin.

The man her undead self used to give Nathanos a new body.

Even though she knew this was also the likely outcome of the reversal, Sylvanas still hurt at the thought of Nathanos being gone now. Some part of her, she realized, hoped, that he could be restored and cured of his madness. That her friend would return to her.

She shook her head. It was his own damn fault, wasn’t it? He could still be alive — or, more accurately, undead — if only he’d listened to her, if only he’d allowed her to live, to exist the way she wanted to… If only he’d had the strength to let her go… Like Jaina did…

Suddenly, Sylvanas’ attention snapped to that last thought.

Nathanos accepted what she’d become as a Banshee Queen, but he couldn’t accept her decision to reverse herself. Yet Jaina… Jaina accepted both her versions — the Banshee Queen and the Ranger General.

That thought made Sylvanas head spin. She almost wanted to laugh at herself for her yesterday’s stupidity. She was so intent on separating herself from her old undead self that she couldn’t comprehend how Jaina could love them both. And that didn’t let her see that Jaina didn’t want the Banshee… or the Ranger General. She wanted _Sylvanas_. Whichever form she came in.

Filled by a sudden urge to see Jaina, Sylvanas jumped to her feet. Nozdormu, who’d decided to keep her a silent company and was doing some sort of paperwork — was he writing _letters_? — looked up at her.

“Leaving already, Lady Windrunner?” he asked neutrally.

“Yes. I need to… Wait, what is this?” she asked, noticing that one of the letters had her name on it. In fact, the parchment looked familiar somehow…

“Oh, those? Nothing you haven’t seen already. A letter to you with my proposal and invitations to other leaders for the gathering we had in Wyrmerst Temple.”

Sylvanas opened her mouth to ask how could he send an invitation to something that already _was_ , but then quickly closed it.

_Bronze dragon. Right._

Another thought, however, occurred to her, and she said, “You’re planning to send mine to Orgrimmar at a night a few months ago, correct?” When Nozdormu nodded, Sylvanas continued, “Then you might as well send Lady Jaina’s along as well. Tell your courier to give them both to a Dark Ranger, they’ll know what to do.”

With a wry smile she turned and left.

* * *

Sylvanas looked for Jaina everywhere, but finally figured out that the mage hadn’t woken up yet. That led her to Jaina’s rooms and, after knocking and not hearing an answer, Sylvanas silently walked in.

Seeing the mage sprawled on the bed, still dressed in her robes, Sylvanas smiled sadly. It seemed that Jaina tried to wait for her through the night, but fell asleep. The elf sat next to her, careful not to jolt her awake. She was planning to stay there until the mage woke up on her own, but then her hand reached out on its own volition and she began gently running her fingers through Jaina’s hair.

Jaina hummed contentedly and turned her head, pressing it into Sylvanas’ palm. After a moment, her eyelashes fluttered, and she looked up at Sylvanas.

The mage smiled. “Sylvanas…” she whispered sleepily. Then reality clicked in her mind, and her eyes widened. Jaina rushed to sit up. “Sylvanas! You’re here…”

“Shhh, _Dalah’surfal_ ,” Sylvanas spoke, the Banshee’s memories — _her_ memories, she really should start getting used to that, — showing her dozens of other times she called Jaina that. “I’m sorry I startled you. Go back to sleep, I’ll be there when you wake up.”

“No… No, I must tell you something.” As Jaina sat, she took Sylvanas’s hand in hers and gripped it tightly. “I thought about what you said tonight. About whether I truly love you or am simply using you as a substitute for someone you used to be.” Sylvanas opened her mouth to protest, but Jaina raised her hand, stopping her. “Please, let me finish. I need you to know that… I don’t see you as such. As a Banshee, I mean. But I also don’t see you as a Ranger General. Perhaps, it’s not what you want to hear, but I’ve realized yesterday that both are one and the same for me. Both are _Sylvanas Windrunner_. The woman I love.” Jaina raised one hand to cup Sylvanas’ cheek. “I understand that you consider your past self despicable, even monstrous, but believe me when I tell you that at your core you’ve always remained the same. Brave, intelligent, willing to do anything to protect those you consider your own.” Then the mage smiled wryly. “Also, cheeky and a bit of an ass, of course. No magic could change _that_.”

Sylvanas let out a huff of laughter and placed her free hand upon the one that Jaina held her face in. Then the elf slightly turned her head and placed a soft kiss on the mage’s palm.

“As much as I’m glad to hear you say this,” Sylvanas began, “I already know. I figured it out as well.”

Jaina’s smile turned soft.

“Oh? How?”

Debating with herself for a few moments, Sylvanas decided to go with the truth.

“Well, relieving the Banshee’s… ah… _my_ old memories did wonders to allowing me see things from my pas self’s perspective.”

Jaina blinked once and then her expression slowly changed into an astonished one.

“What? You’ve restored your old memories? But _how_?”

“Nozdormu used some dragon artifact…” Sylvanas began explaining, but then she was perplexed by the sudden comprehension that flickered on Jaina’s face.

“Tyr’s relic! Tides, of course, how could I forget about it!” the mage exclaimed, gripping Sylvanas’ hand tighter. Her eyes burned with the same fire Sylvanas usually saw in her whenever Jaina was engaged in her research or was talking about some fascinating arcane-related subject.

Still, the elf was surprised.

“You knew about it?” she asked, and the mage nodded.

“Yes. Kalec found it shortly after Cataclysm, and I helped him fix it,” she explained. “But I never… Tides, I can’t believe I never even thought about using it to transfer you those memories!” Then something occurred to Jaina and she looked at Sylvanas worriedly. “Sylvanas, are you even _okay_? I know how this thing works, and it’s a rather crude, albeit effective, way to pass knowledge. Not to mention that relieving your undeath… It couldn’t have been pleasant.”

Sylvanas hummed thoughtfully. “There were some harrowing moments,” she admitted and then glanced meaningfully at Jaina. “But the ones closer to the end were completely worth it.”

The mage smiled, but a worried crinkle between her eyes didn’t soften. Following an urge to wipe it away, Sylvanas moved closer, and when Jaina didn’t pull back, she kissed her gently on the lips. And the mage reciprocated.

The kiss was all softness, the gentle glide of lips and barely audible sighs. Neither of them rushed, simply enjoying each other’s closeness. For the first time in months neither the mage nor the elf felt any hesitation or doubt about the other’s feelings.

After a few seconds, they drew back. Sylvanas tugged onto Jaina’s hand, turned it palm up and then carefully placed a chain with her token in it.

Jaina breathed in sharply, and her gaze flitted from Sylvanas to the token and back again.

“If I knew how much my own mark would hurt me, I’d never have asked you to keep it on,” Sylvanas said, smirking. “But,” she added with a shrug, “I guess I like the way it looks on you too much.”

The mage, however, didn’t make a move to put it on.

“Are you sure, Sylvanas?” she asked, her gaze intense. “My love, you don’t need to do this if you’re not ready. If you need time to process, or wish to take things slow, I’m willing to wait.”

Her question and an earnest expression made Sylvanas want to laugh, freely and happily. She smiled, instead, taking the token back and putting it around Jaina’s neck herself.

“I’m sure, _Dalah’surfal_ ,” the elf whispered, leaning so close to Jaina that their noses almost touched. “Because, if it was unclear before — _I love you too_.” Her smile turned wry after that. “Guess it’s another thing no magic can change.”

Instead of answering, the mage threw her arms around Sylvanas’ neck, and kissed her again. But this time hungrily. Desperately. Sylvanas answered in kind, grazing Jaina’s lips with her fangs, biting them as she wanted to do for weeks, as she remembered now doing before…

Finally, Jaina pulled away. Sylvanas chased after her; now that she and Jaina were finally together — _again_ , her memories reminded her, — kissing the mage was all she wanted to do, but it seemed that Jaina had already thought of some concerns.

“Tides, I’m so happy that you remember everything now,” she mage said, slightly out of breath, “but… this might turn into _such_ a political mess,” she finished with a rueful chuckle, shaking her head. “When the rest of the leaders find out, all hell is going to break loose. Especially when _Genn_ learns.” Sylvanas made face, remembering her relationship with the monarch of Gilneas, but Jaina looked up suddenly and her expression turned serious. “And… what about Alleria and Vereesa? How do you feel about them now?”

Sylvanas’ face darkened. She didn’t see Alleria after getting her memories back, nor did she have much time to ponder their relationship. And while Banshee’s experience with her sisters was tainted by mistrust and betrayals, it was framed in time by warm memories of love, acceptance and support.

“I think we’ll be fine,” Sylvanas slowly said, and Jaina relaxed a bit. “Even if undeath I wanted for us to reunite. I won’t let anything get between us.”

The mage beamed at her and prepared to say something else, but suddenly they both heard some commotion at the door. After a second it flew open and Vereesa — speak of the devil — strode in.

“Jaina! I came as soon as I heard!” she stopped short at seeing Sylvanas, her face flooding in relief. “Lady Moon! Thank _Belore_ you’re all right!” She took two more steps toward them, before finally noticing how close the two were sitting, Sylvanas basically draping herself over Jaina, her hands resting at the mage’s sides. “Um… What is going on?” When Jaina turned a bit to face Vereesa, the youngest sister’s eyes zeroed in on the token that rested proudly between the mage’s breasts and she openly gaped at that. “Is that?..”

Sylvanas’ first reaction to Vereesa’s appearance was to tense. Despite what she’d told Jaina a moment ago, she still remembered the trial and how betrayed she felt after her little sister abandoned her. In fact, it was one of the most painful memories she relieved, eclipsed only by the torture Arthas had inflicted upon her. But then she remembered Vereesa’s tearful apology at the Spire, and how she cried in the Wyrmrest Temple. How happy she was for Sylvanas’ return.

Sighing, Sylvanas pushed her old resentments aside. She and her sisters would need to sort them out, but right now wasn’t the time or place for that.

“What does it look like, Little Moon?” she drawled teasingly, but Vereesa simply kept blinking at both of them, her mouth still hanging open.

“What?.. How?..” finally, gears in Vereesa’s head began to turn. “How long has this been going on?” Her gaze fell upon the token once again, and as realization struck her eyes flew up to Jaina’s. “ _Jaina!_ ”

Sylvanas sighed. She really didn’t want to sit through another one of Vereesa’s tantrums, so she decided to try and get her to leave.

“Vereesa,” she called out and then pointedly looked in Jaina’s direction. “You’re intruding, Little Moon.”

Vereesa’s ears reddened.

“Oh. Um. Right.” She shuffled her feet a bit and added, “But you’re fine, right? Both of you?”

“Yes,” Jaina said, smiling at her friend, and Sylvanas mirrored her smile. “We are absolutely fine.”

“Good. Alright. I’ll just… go then…” Vereesa nodded and, after staring at them for a moment longer, turned to leave.

Suddenly, something prompted Sylvanas to stop her.

“By the way, Vereesa?” When her sister glanced over her shoulder, looking at Sylvanas questioningly, the elf continued, “You are still a jerk for telling Alleria it was _my_ idea to poison Garrosh.”

Vereesa blinked at first, as if not understanding what Sylvanas was talking about. Then a full implication of what was said hit her, and she stared at Sylvanas, her mouth hanging open.

“ _Anar’alah_ … you remember…”

Sylvanas only grinned in return.

Coming to her senses, Vereesa began slowly backing out of the room, then she turned, and ran, slamming the door shut after her. After a few seconds, Sylvanas and Jaina heard her muffled voice from the hallway.

“Alleria! We’ve got a big problem!!”

Despite knowing that they probably _did_ have a problem now — Tides only knew how the rest of the world would react to the news that the Banshee Queen was (sort of) back — Jaina laughed, tucking her face into the crook of Sylvanas’ neck.

“How much would you bet Lady Sun is going to greet me with a drawn bow when we leave the room?” Sylvanas asked with a low chuckle.

“I’m not betting against any Windrunner’s propensity to shoot first and ask questions later,” Jaina murmured, before looking at Sylvanas, her eyes sparkling. “But if you’re afraid to face your sister, we can just stay here.”

With that, she drew her beloved in for another kiss.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you, my wonderful readers, gave me a few fun ideas for the epilogue. I won't be tackling it in the nearby month at least, buuut... maybe someday? ;)
> 
> In any case, this story is finished, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!) <3


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